Las Amigas de los Miserables (2)
by LydiaofNarnia
Summary: Rating may go up. A group of demented fangirls somehow manage to go back to nineteenth century France. Les Amis de l'ABC had better be on guard, because crazy fangirls are now hunting them, and no one is safe. Please R/R, also posted in Books.
1. In which there is a plothole

Las Amigas de las Miserables were not what would generally be considered a cult- and, in fact, they were _not _a cult. Just because a specific group has several cult-like characteristics does not make it a cult, as all eight members fervently maintained.

The Las Amigas de los Miserables- AKA, The Friends of the Miserable- were merely a group. A group of what may be considered even worse than cult members- fangirls. They were fangirls of Les Miserables, more specifically fangirls of a certain fictional revolutionary student group- Les Amis de l'ABC. They were such fangirls that they even named their club after the Amis, to some extent. The name was Spanish, as provided by Marleni, who spoke fluent Spanish. And it was the job of this group to meet three times a week and discuss, squee, weep, swoon, and otherwise make complete nuisances of themselves, over the Amis de l'ABC.

Who were these girls, you might ask? They were all classmates, all roughly sixteen on seventeen. They were all close friends, and they were all thoroughly obsessed with the Amis.

The president and supreme leader of the Amigos was a headstrong young girl named Ally Harrison. Ally was rather tall, with frizzy blonde hair and a prominent nose. She had large blue eyes, and while not overly attractive, she was a nice looking girl altogether. If there was one word to describe Ally, it was stubborn. If one was granted another word it would be vivacious. Ally was a very focused, slightly one-track minded person- she knew her goals and was resolved to follow them through, without allowing for any distraction. What exactly these goals were changed by the week, as she accomplished most of them (Get science project done, Donate to homeless shelter, Finish that Ami drawing) rapidly. She was a hard worker, who understood exactly what needed to get done, but was sometimes unsure of _how_.

This task fell to Elsa Goldman, treasurer and closest companion of Ally. Elsa was a calm, meticulous, pragmatic girl who seemed to always see the brighter side of things. While normally the Vice President would be mentioned here, the present author feels obligated to insert Elsa here as she was Ally's closest friend and confidant. The two had known each other since pre-school and while Ally was excitable Elsa was serene. Elsa was an honest-to-god genius- she was well-spoken, absurdly literate for a sixteen year old (actually, she was a compulsive reader- she read by habit, and could not resist a book placed in front of her), and loved to write. She had inspired the group to read the book, or at least to begin to read it. She was also in possession of a quiet beauty- dark brown hair that curled slightly and reached down to her shoulders, and strikingly clear blue eyes.

The vice president was fifteen year old Avielle Hansen, a delightful spitfire with brown curls, brown eyes and an incredibly cheeky yet charming grin. Avielle was energy and was never able to hold still. She was athletic- an archer and an equestrian. She never seemed to stop smiling, but was fully capable of being serious, and was actually quite clever. She knew the canon inside and out, and was a dedicated fangirl. She had an eye for fashion and style, was a true comedian and loved to entertain others. She loved to tell stories and knew what would keep people entertained. But most of all she was charismatic and it was hard not to feel happy in her presence.

The Amigos secretary was Isabella Ricci, a pretty girl with dark hair and dark eyes who was adored by all who knew her. She was adored because of her natural kindness and generosity for which she was renowned. She was intelligent, and she was talkative. She had a kind word for all, and was a constant optimist. But she had flaws, just as any other human being. She had her head in the clouds, and was a dreamer- not that this is a flaw, per say, but Isabella was the type who would sometimes just drift away into her mind- Avielle would often comment that it may be beneficial to tie a rope around her waist and tie the other end to one's wrist, otherwise Isabella could very well simply float away. Her kindness, her greatest virtue, often could be her greatest downfall- for she was naturally very trusting and slightly naive.

And then there was little Bridget McDonnell, quiet and pensive. She was pretty, with straight brown hair and blue eyes and remarkably pale skin, for the sun seemed to do nothing for her. She read a lot, and was clever, quietly self confident and regularly generous. She made a habit to do at least one good deed a day, and was a writer- she wrote her own stories, and loved to see people fascinated by the twists and turns. As such, she was the group's historian- she recorded the events of each meeting. She also enjoyed performing- being up on a stage in front of an audience was a great pleasure to her. She enjoyed acting and loved to hear her audience applaud. But she was subject to stage fright, so commonly just preformed her own stories, typically with the help of several other girls, and her audience was riveted.

Marleni Cortes had a very bad home life- she was the oldest of three siblings, and they all had been in and out of the foster care system. Currently they lived with their mother, who spoke only Spanish. Marleni's youngest sibling could hardly speak English and they all lived with her mother's three Spanish speaking friends, thus little to no English was spoken in her household, though Marleni was fluent in English. Marleni was small for a sixteen year old, with a mop of unruly dark hair and was overly fond of bright colors which matched her personality. She loved to sing, and was sort of... Spacey. She had a tendency of acting much younger than she actually was- she believed in Santa Claus, mermaids, etc. But she was lovely to be around, very sunny and comical. Since she spoke English, Spanish and some French, she was the group's translator.

The last two members can be described in the same paragraph, as they were rarely found apart. Madeleine Nguyen and Noelle Piatek were inseparable. Where one went, the other followed. Physically, they were entirely different. Maddy was Vietnamese, with short hair that didn't quite reach her shoulders, and was tall and bony. Noelle, however, was grey eyed and tan skinned, with messy brown hair and a turned up little nose that pained her to look at but no one else really noticed. they were opposites in temperament, as well. Maddy loved to dance wherever she went, and was, in fact, a dancer- she wanted to perform on Broadway one day. She was energetic and exuberant and funny- she loved to laugh and dance and sing. Elle had little to no physical co-ordination- she tripped over her own two feet daily. She was shy and quiet, but she was smart. She was observant and clever and was actually very funny, it's just that no one except Maddy ever really noticed because she was so quiet. But she was an incredible painter, and anyone who saw her work swore that she would be a great artist someday. But the thing about Noelle that separated her from the rest of the club was that she was not a fangirl- or at least not to the level the rest of them were. She was only in the club because Maddy had begged her to join, and she frankly enjoyed Elsa's company very much because they read many of the same books.

And that was the club, the cult, whatever you want to call it. Anyway, since the reader (if there are in fact any readers left after that long description) is probably quite curious as to what the point of that long, rater Hugolian monologue, we should jump right in to the plot. As in, plot hole- literally.

XXX

"I think Joly is really funny, with his tongue obsession. He's my favorite." Marleni said, looking up from the stuffed pink bear she had resting on her lap.

"Joly _lived_, Lena, _Joly LIVED!" _Madeleine exclaimed, nearly rolling off of the bed in exuberance, arms waving wildly. She was referring to her theory that Joly survived the barricades because she couldn't find his death listed in the brick.

Avielle, for once, said nothing, only began loudly humming 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables'. Maddy chucked a pillow at her head. "You don't know that for sure, Avi! He could have lived!"

"Marius said no," Avi replied simply.

"What does Marius know? He didn't know his true love's name half the time he was stalking her!" Maddy shot back, ready to defend her precious Joly theory to the death.

Ally, seeing as this entire thing was getting out of hand, merely took her airhorn and blasted it in their direction. "Shut up, guys. My mom's gonna come up and kill us. You know she hates when we get loud. My room, my rules."

Elsa graciously decided not to comment on the fact that Ally was the one with the air horn and merely shrugged and turned her attention back to the window. "It's a really bad storm," She observed as a huge bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. "D'you think we might loose power?"

"Oh god," Ally muttered, "Pray not. Or else everyone will have to stay here over night. Again. After my mom made it very clear that Avielle was not allowed to be in the house past nine."

"It wasn't that bad," Avi defended herself indignantly, adjusting her 'Les Mis' t-shirt sleeve unconciously.

"You set the sofa on fire."

"Yeah, but-"

"And my new car."

"Well, I-"

"And the goldfish, and there is no excuse for that one."

"At least he lived," Isabella replied softly, patting her friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry Avi, I'm sure you didn't hurt the fish on purpose."

"I didn't!" Avi replied, and Bridget shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. Avielle turned to her. "What?"

"Nothing... I just remember you screaming "Hasta la vista, fishie," and then all of a sudden you were holding a burning fish, and then you swore really loud and threw it back in the bowl."

Elsa regarded Avielle with a disturbed expression. "Avielle, have you considered that you might be a pyromaniac?"

"I'm not a firebug!" Avielle cried angrily. "I just think it's pretty..."

"Yeah, pretty." Ally replied, examining herself in the mirror and tying her hair back in a blue scrunchie. She was openly scornful of Avi's fire tendencies, mainly because it was her car and her couch, and she was blamed for bringing Avielle in to the house. Elsa, however, was a bit more practical about the issue.

Noelle sat solemnly, taking care to keep any trace of a smirk off of her face, but she and Maddy shared an amused look. The typical Amigo bantering was normal for the club meetings, and Ally hated it.

"So, Elle," Maddy leaned over and whispered, "Want to sleep over at my house tonight? I have popcorn, you just need to bring the Harry Potter movies and our night is set."

Avi the Potterhead's ears perked up and she looked around in interest, previous conversation forgotten. "Who said Harry Potter?"

Madeleine and Noelle giggled quietly before Noelle let out a sharp gasp. There were several sharp screams as the lights went out and the whole room seemed to be illuminated from the outside by a giant flash of lightning hitting the house, and the ground felt as if it was shaking. The white light flashed, brightening the whole room, and Elsa just managed to see the terrified look on Ally's face before being forced to shut her eyes from the bright light. Then, just as suddenly as it had began, the world was dark again.

Marleni was sobbing softly and Maddy and Elle clung to each other, trembling. Elsa realized that she was hugging her knees to her chest and quickly straightened up on the bed. Ally had fallen to the ground in front of her dresser, and her hands were covering her head. Bridget had dove under the table, and Avielle was curled in on herself on the floor. Isabella's first reaction was to immediately insure that everyone else was alright, but her hands were trembling and as their eyes adjusted to the light the others could see that she looked shaken.

"Everyone okay?" Ally asked softly, as if afraid to speak loudly after that.

"I- I'm not sure." Bridget replied breathlessly, crawling out from under her table and feeling around for where she had dropped her pencil. Her braids were mussed up and she looked even paler, if that was even possible.

"Maddy, Noelle? You alright? Lena? Elsa, are you okay? Avi, come on, get up, it's alright," Isabella ran around, pulling her friends up off of the ground and checking them over for bumps and cuts.

"We're fine, Bella," Elsa replied softly, hugging a pillow closely. "I think the house was struck by lightning."

"Is there a fire?" Avielle gasped, and Noelle could have smiled at the irony of that question from the firebug herself.

"What's that?" Whispered Marleni, pointing in to the mirror with a trembling hand.

Ally didn't even bother to look. "You." She walked briskly over to the window and peered out anxiously.

"No, Ally, look," Said Elsa softly, staring at the mirror in shock.

"My god," Maddy whispered, her sharp fingernails digging into Noelle's arm. Noelle gulped and tried to tear her eyes away, but found herself unable to.

Ally finally turned, and was stunned at what she was. The mirror was pulsing with a blue light and when you looked inside you could see no reflection, only deep fog. It was beautiful and horrifying at the same time. Slowly Avielle stood and walked towards the mirror. It was only when she was about two feet away and reached out to touch it that Ally snapped in to action, bounding across the room and pulling her arm back. "Don't touch it," She hissed in to her ear, yet still neither girl tore their eyes from the mirror.

"Why not?" Murmured Avi faintly. "It's just so pretty... It's like it's telling me to touch it... It's calling me. It won't hurt me."

"How do you know," Snapped Ally, wrenching Avielle's hand away again and pushing her back.

"It's talking to me," replied Avi, and Ally wondered if her friend had finally snapped. "It's- it's a plot hole. It- It'll take us to see them."

"Them?" Bridget breathed softly, not really knowing who Avielle was referring to but somehow feeling as if she already knew. She was afraid to look away from the beautiful shimmering mirror.

"The Amis." Avielle replied. "Who else?" She reached out a tanned arm once again, and sighed in despair when Ally pulled her back. Elsa knew that she should help, but didn't want to move.

"Oh, please, just let me touch it." Avielle begged, and suddenly Ally simply released her, without knowing why. Avielle's eyes lit up and she reached out her hand. Her fingers met the mirror's surface, and went right through it as if it were water. She gasped audibly but didn't pull back. "It- It's real. I can feel it." She trailed off for a moment before beginning again. "It's a plothole. We get to go through and live out our fangirl dreams."

"What?" Exclaimed Maddy, a bit louder that she should have. "Why? Why us?"

"I don't know." Avi replied, sticking her whole arm in now. She tore her eyes away from the shimmering mirror that rippled at her touch and back to her friends. "I'm going in." And before anyone had a chance to stop her, she scrambled up onto the dresser and dove straight through the mirror, disappearing into the other side.

"No," Isabella gasped, and suddenly the spell was broken and all the girls rushed towards the mirror at once. "Avielle! Come back!"

"I've just thought of something," Elsa gasped, gripping the edge of the vanity until her knuckles turned white. "What if we're all dead?"

"This mirror could be the portal into some sort of afterlife." Noelle added, staring at the thing in a terrible sort of fear.

"But Avielle said it was a plothole." Replied Bridget. "Those aren't bad things... Not for fangirls like us. And besides, if we are dead then there really isn't anything to do about it than got through."

"I guess you're right..." Maddy murmured, turning to Ally. "What do we do, chief?"

Ally frowned, thinking hard for a moment before looking up at them. "We go in. We need to find Avielle, at the very least."

"And if she's right, and we do end up in Les Mis?" Marleni asked softly, pondering the incredible possibility.

"Then, we do as fangirls do," Ally replied. And all seven of the remaining girls grinned at the same time and each and every one of them dove through the plothole and tumbled out in to the streets of nineteenth century Paris.

**_AN: Okay, so this is my first fanfic. Be nice, okay? I haven't finished the book yet. I'm on Book Four, but I know how it ends. The girls- Ally, Elsa, Isabella, Bridget, Avielle, Maddy, Noelle and Marleni are all going to be run through a MS test and I'll do my best to keep them from becoming Marie-Suzettes. No specific pairings for right now, although I have some ideas... The plot will really pick up next chapter._**


	2. In which everyone passes out

The seven girls landed in a pile of jumbled limbs and surprised shrieks in the middle of a street. After finally landing, they all just sat there in stunned silence a moment before slowly beginning to untangle themselves. Marleni had landed on her head and was pretty much knocked out, Elsa stood up slowly with a dazed sort of look on her faced that was quite unusual for her, Noelle was blinking rapidly and looking around the empty street, and Avielle was nowhere to be found. Ally pulled herself out from under a pile of two other girls and groaned.

"I- I think it actually worked."

"No, Maddy, really?"

"Well, no need to be rude, Ally. I'm just surprised is all." Maddy replied with an indignant snort. Isabella, snapping out of her haze, interceded quickly.

"It's fine, we're all really surprised. This is incredible."

"And scary!" Bridget exclaimed, rubbing her arm, which she had landed on in the fall. "What could that have been?"

"Avi told you," Marleni replied, sitting up slowly as she was still recovering from her head injury. "It was a plothole. Those things are magic."

"But why would a plot hole appear in Ally's room?" Elsa asked musingly, looking around the street and wondering exactly what time it was, for it was night and there was no one to be seen aside from the fangirls.

"Spontaneous twist of fate?" Maddy suggested. "I really don't know, but I don't want to question it. Besides, why worry when we could be looking for the _Amis-" _

"Or Avielle."

"Yeah," Isabella frowned, "Where is she?" The fangirls then began calling out for her. Noelle worried that Avielle could have possibly landed somewhere else, when she heard a shout and saw a hand waving from behind a corner.

"You guys!" Avielle called.

"Avi!" Elsa gasped as the rest to the Amigas ran over to her. "Where were you?"

"Exploring," Avielle replied, shrugging. "I was right. It's definitely Paris."

"Oh. My. God." Isabella breathed and Maddy squeed, grabbing Noelle and jumping up and down, shaking her until her brains rattled and screaming something garbled about the "Freeeeakin' Amiiiiiiiiiieeees". Noelle started screaming too, because she was pretty sure Maddy was accidentally killing her.

"This is incredible!" Ally gasped. "I don't understand it at all, but it's amazing. Okay, first off we need a place to stay. Where could that be?"

"In Les Miserables?" Elsa frowned, running through all the possible alternatives in her head. "The sewers. No one really goes down there."

"Except, you know, Thenardier... And Valjean... And Marius..." Ally frowned.

"And Enjolras and Grantaire to get sexy in my fanfiction!" Marleni added and Bridget, who was standing next to her, backed away a good two feet.

"Uhh, did not need to know that, gross." Ally replied, closing her eyes to get the bad mental image of sewer sex out of her brain. "But I don't really want to sleep in the sewers every night."

"Don't worry," Interjected Avielle, casually walking over to a sewer entrance on one of the buildings and removing the grate. "I'm pretty sure we can do something about that now."

"What?"

"Plotholes," She replied. "We can use them. They can help us by making stuff happen randomly or whatever." The rest of the Amigas looked at her as if she were nuts.

"How would you know all of this?" Bridget asked, not exactly sounding as if she doubted her friend but cautious in her own way.

Avielle frowned, not understanding why her friends didn't know this already. Didn't they hear the voice like she did, when the plothole appeared? "The plothole. It told me. We have powers now, guys. We're not just fangirls, we're _Authoresses. _We're special."

Ally sighed, not sure what to believe. "I don't know what your talking about, Avielle. If you have such special powers, prove it. Otherwise, stop acting stupid and get away from that grate before Thenardier springs out of it and tries to drown you in sewer muck."

This made Avielle angry. She was right, she knew she was. They just couldn't hear the plothole speak to her. "I'm telling the truth," She exclaimed angrily, and suddenly turned her back to them, facing the sewer. She grit her teeth and focused every last ounce of energy on the sewer. She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but she trusted that the plotholes would. Suddenly an intense relief came over her, and she knew that it was done. Without warning, she dove down into the sewer hole and slid down it like a slide.

It was a smooth slide, no muck to be found, and when she landed (by falling through the ceiling) she found herself lying flat on her back staring up at the hole in which she had come in through. Upon sitting up, she found herself affronted by dozens of Les Mis sketches, posters and merchandise, and quickly realized that she was in a place that appeared very much like Ally's room. There was the pink and green carpeting, the mounds of stuffed animals and pillows scattered haphazardly about, the door leading out in to what Avielle assumed was the hallway, the white dresser and mirror (a normal mirror, not a plothole)- in fact, there were only two differences- the first was that one wall of the room was lined with four sets of bunk beds, complete with different colored blankets and pillows for each bed. A little golden nameplate on each headboard read whose bed it was.

The second was a large computer in the northeast corner that displayed several rooms very much like prison cells, complete with a bed and a desk. This computer sat on a neon green wooden desk, and next to it sat a book entitled, "_So You've Just Fallen Into Nineteenth Century France (For Fangirls)"._

"You guuuuuuuuys..." Avielle called up into the hole in the ceiling which the slide led. "You need to see this."

"Avi, are you alright?" Isabella's voice called down, sounding concerned.

"We're coming down," Noelle added, and Avielle heard someone sliding down, at which point she quickly moved out of the way so as to not be crushed. This person was Ally, who Avielle was still a bit mad at for telling her off. Avielle climbed up to her bunk, a top bed of course, and sat there staring at Ally with a little smirk on her face as Ally completely lost it.

"_WHAT IS MY ROOM DOING IN THE PARISIAN SEWER SYSTEM?"_

"What?" Elsa cried, and then she too landed in the middle of the room- and, consequently, on top of Ally, who gasped as Elsa jumped off of her. "Oh god, I am so sorry Ally."

"Ow," Ally muttered, wondering why everyone was landing on her today.

"This is... Ally's room." Elsa gasped, grabbing Ally's arms and pulling her away from the opening in the roof. Ally moaned something about her back, not really caring who's room she was in.

"I know," Avielle said, really grinning by this point. "And I put it here! By using a plothole! Isn't this amazing?"

Within minutes all the girls were assembled in the "sewer" and lounging around the room very much as they had been before they had left, with Ally, Elsa and Avielle on Ally's (bunk) bed, Maddy and Noelle now on the floor and Isabella sitting backwards in Ally's new desk's chair. The entire crazy thing felt as if it were a dream when surrounded with such familiarity, and they sat cheerfully, chatting away about the strange circumstances that had led them here. Elsa, who would typically have much to contribute to this sort of conversation, was completely lost in her own thoughts and stared dazedly up at the ceiling, wearing a dreamy sort of smile. Avielle waved a hand in front of her face and Elsa didn't blink.

"Elsa, are you okay?" Bridget asked from her seat at the little table.

"Hmm?" Elsa asked, looking as if Bridget had woken her up. "Oh, yeah, fine." Ally looked over at her and the two exchanged a secret smile. Ally knew very well what Elsa was daydreaming about- or more exactly _who._

"So, we're here," Observed Isabella simply. "What do we do now?"

"We go hunt down the Amis, duh!" Maddy replied, looking up from the book she held in her lap. Avielle glanced over at her and smirked.

"What could this be, hmm? Tell me, am I dreaming or is Madeleine Nguyen really holding a _book_? Why, I never thought I'd live to see the day!"

"Shut up, Avi," Maddy laughed, holding up the book she was reading. It was the book that had appeared with the computer- _"So You've Just Fallen Into Nineteenth Century France (For Fangirls)"_, or as it will be abbreviated from this point, '_SYJFINCF'_, because the present author in absurdly lazy. It was a little green book that had the Les Mis logo on the cover, but unlike the actual Brick, this book was small- about fifty pages.

"Give it to Elsa, books are her thing," Marleni suggested.

"I think that Elsa is rather out of it right now," Ally interjected. "Give it to Noelle." Maddy passed it to her friend, and Noelle opened it to the first page.

"'So'," She read, taking care to read loudly and clearly, "You have just fallen through a plot hole."

"We've got that already." Said Avi.

"And now, you are in nineteenth century France."

"Got that too. Skip this part, Elle."

Noelle obliged, jumping to the next paragraph. "'As you may have already noticed, you are currently speaking French by default...' Wait, what?"

Ally sat up straight. "_That's_ new."

"Hey, we are!" Marleni gasped, "Oh wow, we really are speaking French! I recognize the words I know."

"However," Noelle continued to read, "This does not mean you will know French fluently when you return home." There were some very loud groans at this.

"Shut up and let her read!" Ally cried. The Amigas obligingly shut up.

"You may have noticed the computer displaying several (approximately six) jail cells. These are for you to use at your convenience, for whatever you wish. They will hold canon characters. You can do whatever you wish with canon characters, as the plot is yours to bend now. Each of you are now Authoresses- you can bend the story at your whim, using plotholes. You have control over the plotholes, and can use them to make things appear out of thin air, such as the very room you sit in and this very book that you read- and you can make people appear and disappear on your whim. Hereby, you can go wherever you want in the story, and in Paris itself."

"Epic..." Maddy breathed.

"This room is your base. You sleep here. While you are here you will have no real need for food, water or bathroom breaks for that would be inconsistent with the plot. The jail cells are directly outside the door. Go forth and do as you wish, this guide is over."

"What type of ending is that?" Ally exclaimed as Noelle closed the book.

"And what about the rest of the pages?" Marleni wondered.

"And- whoa, where'd it go?" Maddy cried as the book literally vanished out of Noelle's hand.

"Where'd ELSA go?"

"What?" The other girls looked up to Ally's bed, where only Ally and Avielle now sat. Bridget was right. Elsa was gone.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Elsa was delighted by the sudden revelations the little book had revealed- she was now speaking French, hereby characters could understand her, and she could manipulate plotholes. Perfect...

You see, Elsa had a problem. While typically completely and entirely sane in every other subject, Elsa was a fangirl. And thus, she was a complete maniac when it came to her lust object, and she was the type of fangirl who would leap on them and start making out with them. So, in fact, said lust object was in immense danger at the moment.

She had utilized the use of a plot hole to vanish out of the room as soon as the book had ended. Surprisingly, no one had noticed. She had teleported herself right in front of the cafe Musain. It was just about sunset- surely the Amis were about to begin their meeting. And indeed, she arrived just in time to witness two men, one bald, vanish through the doorway. She smiled to herself, gasping for breath- Bossuet and Joly, no doubt. So she lay in wait in the shadows as she watched the arrival of Jehan Prouvaire- she had to stop herself from running out to glomp him- and finally, just as the last hint of day faded and night completely set in, she heard footsteps and saw a figure walking towards the cafe, wearing glasses and carrying at least three books.

It had to be him, but Elsa was never one to rush in to something without being sure of herself. Still hiding in the shadows, she deepened her voice and called out.

"Combeferre!"

The man's head turned, not exactly sure where the voice had come from. Likely figuring it was one of his friends, Combeferre turned away and proceeded towards the cafe. It was then that Elsa struck. She ran out of her hiding place like a bolt of lightning and stopped directly in front of him. It was only when she got there that she realized she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say.

"Hi..." She giggled, all previous signs of intelligence completely absent from her mind. Elsa's brain had switched to fangirl mode, and all her thoughts were completely irrational, manic and quite troubling. For example:

_Holy crap it's Combeferre my one true love oh my god oh god oh god I must make him love me!_

And this is exactly what she was thinking at that very moment.

Combeferre wasn't exactly sure how to react, but that was alright because Elsa didn't give him a chance. She glomped him, tackling him and knocking him over, squeezing him until he could hardly breathe. Combeferre, understandably stunned by being tackled by a squealing teenager, did the first rational thing and pushed her off of him. Elsa, not to be swayed, latched herself to his waist as he struggled to get up and tried to kiss him. He pushed her away again and called out for help, hoping that one of his friends would hear him. But while no Ami heard his cry for help, and Amiga did and quickly rushed to the scene.

"Elsa!" Marleni gasped, running over and trying to pull Elsa off of the poor student. Elsa was rabid, and clung to her beloved with all the determination of a slightly obsessed police officer hunting a guy who broke his parole for thirty years. She screamed savagely and may or may not have actually bit Combeferre at some point. Whether she bit him or not, it is unquestionable that she punched Marleni in the jaw. As Ally seemed to be in the habit of cushioning people's falls today, Marleni was in the habit of being knocked out, and was completely taking down by Elsa, who was an unexpectedly good fighter when deranged.

Unfortunately, punching one's friend in the jaw takes at least one hand, and that was a hand that Elsa had had to remove from Combeferre, giving him the chance to escape. He began to run, at which point Elsa, free of her friend's hindrance, leapt at him like a maniac and tackled him to the ground again. At this point, the screaming had attracted the attention of Isabella, also out searching for Elsa in the area, and anyone currently in the Cafe Musain, seeing as the scuffle was taking place directly outside their front door. Luckily it was relatively uncrowded that night and the only people there was the owner and several Amis (namely Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan, the only ones to arrive as of yet- why wasn't Enjolras there, anyway? Doesn't he always get there first? Maybe he was waiting for most of his friends to get there so he could make a dramatic entrance. I could totally see him doing that.).

The three Amis came running out the door just as Isabella arrived. Isabella took in the scene quickly, and was on Elsa in seconds, deftly dodging her fists and managing to push two of her fingers down directly under Elsa's right ear. Elsa's entire body shuddered and she slumped forward, completely unconscious. Joly and Bossuet quickly helped Combeferre up with Jehan checking if he was alright. Meanwhile, Isabella was biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, and trying to prop both Elsa and MArleni up against her so that they wouldn't be lying on the dirty street. Understandably upset, she gave up, allowing both her friends to slump forward, and placed her head in her hands. Ally was going to _kill_ her.

"Are you alright?" A soft voice asked, and Isabella felt a hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped up and she regarded the rather tall blonde man cautiously. Her friend had just attacked his friend and that was _bad_. Some people may think to be wary around people who dressed like a rainbow threw up all over their clothing, but Isabella was trusting by nature so this did not occur to her.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm so, so, so sorry about this, she has problems sometimes and... I'm so incredibly sorry," she said, glancing at Combeferre, who Joly and Bossuet were helping get inside because he was having a difficult time walking on his own. "Will you tell him that?"

"Of course, mademoiselle," The man replied holding on a hand and helping her up.

"I, I just- We never should have let her out of our sight, I can't believe that she did this, she typically isn't like this, Is wear, I-" She stopped abruptly, sighing and nudging Elsa with her foot.

"How did you put her to sleep- if I may ask?" The man asked curiously, seeing as Elsa was entirely gone.

"Oh, uh, pressure points," Isabella laughed nervously. "My dad makes me take self defense classes."

The man looked at her curiously, as if he had never seen anything like her before. "What is your name, mademoiselle?"

"Isabella Ricci."

"Isabella... That's a lovely name. Not very common."

"Not here. But where I come from it is. Actually, I read that it's one of the most popular names in my country."

"You can read?" Literacy was not a common gift in France at the time, especially for females.

"Of course," replied Isabella. "Can't most people?"

"Not here."

"Oh," Isabella frowned, wondering what type of country wouldn't encourage reading. At that moment, Isabella heard her name and turned to see two figures running towards her. "Maddy, Elle! Oh, it's good you're here, Elsa and Marleni are passed out, and I need help getting them back."

"Oh, geez," Maddy cried, grabbing Marleni's arm and trying to pull her to her feet.

"Elsa strikes again," Noelle added, doing the same for the attacker in question.

"C'mon, Bella, give us a hand," Said Maddy.

Isabella, realizing that it would be far more practical to use a plothole to get them back, slowly began to lead the man back towards the cafe. "Are you in need of any assistance?" He asked, with all the courteousness of a nineteenth century gentleman.

"Oh, no, we're fine," Isabella replied, leading him into the cafe and closing the door. "Go back to your business, everything will be alright." She turned to leave but the man called after her, making her turn.

"Wait! Mademoiselle Isabella!"

Isabella turned and frowned, really needing to go before Elsa woke up raving. "Yes?"

"Will I see you again?"

Isabella frowned, biting her lip. She wasn't sure, she didn't even know who this man was. "I'm not sure. I may not be in Paris for long. What is your name?"

"Jehan. Jehan Prouvaire."

Isabella stopped in her tracks, completely frozen. Her eyes bugged out and she gasped breathlessly. _Jehan._

_She was hopelessly and incredibly in love with Jehan._

_The room began spinning and she swayed on the spot, suddenly afraid that she would collapse. Jehan put out an arm to steady her and asked her if she was alright, but Isabella couldn't speak. She heard Noelle's voice and felt her friend's warm hands leading her out the door, she heard Jehan calling her name as the door closed, and she just managed to breathe out his name before fainting into Noelle's arms. _

"_Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Maddy snarled as Isabella was laid next to Marleni and Elsa. "Why is everyone passing out today?"_

_Noelle could only shake her head right before they plotholed back to their base. Sometimes her friends were really insane._


	3. In which Bahorel has no fangirls

"Would anyone here care to tell me exactly what is going on here? Maddy, Noelle?" Ally eyed both girls, who felt slightly guilty, even though they didn't do anything. "Marleni's bleeding, Elsa's sort of twitching and Isabella just looks _dead._ And they're all out cold! What did you guys _do_?!"

"Nothing!" Maddy cried, kicking Elsa lightly... or not so lightly. "It's all on her!"

"Oh, she knocked _herself _out." Ally nodded sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, no, that was Isabella."

"Isabella? _Really_?"

"Isabella wouldn't do this. Besides, she's passed out too," Bridget interjected.

The three that they were speaking of were currently laid out flat on the floor, and Ally's observations were quite correct. Avielle had run to go get some water... from somewhere, no one was sure where, but whatever, that was her problem. Maddy and Noelle were currently sitting on one of the bunks, being interrogated by Ally, and Bridget was shaking them all in a futile effort to awaken them.

"No," Noelle replied, jumping off the bed and joining Bridget, "but she can use pressure points."

"Well," Avielle said merrily, returning with a bucket full of water, which was odd seeing as she had not left with a bucket and there did not happen to be any sources of clean water within five minute walking distance. Based on her tousled appearance, Ally had the sneaking suspicion that she had mugged a peasant to get it- which honestly would not be that surprisiing of her. "Well," Avielle announced brightly, "seeing as our main sources of innocence currently happen to be incapacitated, we can speak plainly of all of the thing we plan on doing to out Ami of choice when we catch them."

"Shut it, Avi," Ally snapped, and Noelle could have sworn that she was blushing. Avi grinned, seeing that she was finally getting under her friend's skin.

"What is it, Al? You can write it, but you can't say it? C'mon, what are you going to do when you've finally got Enjolras in your clutches-"

Ally angrily chucked _'SYJFINCF' _at Avielle, who swiftly ducked. "Geez, no wonder everyone's getting knocked out, we're all taking a bit too much pleasure in throwing things at each other."

"When I meet Joly we're going to stay up all night talking," Bridget supplied dreamily, taking the bucket from Avielle and sprinkling some water on Marleni's face.

"Not exactly what I had in mind, but okay. How about you, Maddy?"

"Uh, well, I guess it all depends on who I catch first. I love all of them, if I get Courfeyrac I'm obviously going to become a part of his collection. If I hook Combeferre, he's going to have a funner night than he could with books and if I get Enjolras he'll finally think of someone other than Patria, and-"

"Enjolras is asexual, I think," Elsa mumbled, sitting up slowly and rubbing her forehead. "What bus hit me?"

Ignoring the latter statement, Avielle added on to Elsa's previous one. "Are we actually sure Enjolras is a guy? I mean, it's not like anyone's ever had the opportunity to check, and it would explain a lot."

Ally, for her part, merely lay on her bed and tried to smother herself with her pillow.

"Don't talk about Ally's one true love like that, Avi," Elsa scolded. "I know that you don't really have much of a preference, but Ally is in love with Enjolras."

"Hey," Avielle exclaimed, "I do too have a preference! I prefer Courfeyrac, he's cool."

"You'd take any of them."

"Shut up, Elsa! Everyone's mad at you."

Elsa honestly could not remember anything since they finished the book. "Why? What'd I do?"

"Hun'd dow' Com'erre. 'Unched me. T'ied 'o rape Com'erre." Marleni replied, having just woken up and being unable to speak properly because of her aching jaw.

"What have you to say for yourself, making us drag you back here like that?" Maddy fixed her best glare on her. Noelle nudged her and started to whisper that they had in fact plotholed, but Maddy elbowed her in the ribs.

"Raping Amis is not appropriate- yet," Avi added in mock-seriousness.

"Oh." Said Elsa slowly.

"Oh?"

"_Oh_- oh, oh, my GOD... sweet Jesus son of a motherfreaking... oh holy crap, GUYS... I- I- I-"

"Can't be trusted alone anymore?" Avielle helpfully suggested.

"Should probably talk to a professional about your problems?" Added Maddy.

"'Ave a 'iller left 'ook?" Marleni lisped.

"Yes!" Elsa cried. 'Yes, yes, yes, all of these! I- what have I done?"

"It's okay, Elsa," Isabella soothed, wiping water off of her face while patting her friend on the shoulder. "I'm not mad at you."

"Of course not," Noelle grinned. "You got to meet Prouvaire."

Isabella sighed dreamily before her eyes widened in horror. "Oh my _god,_ I fainted in front of him, didn't I?"

"Yes," Maddy replied bluntly before adding with a smile, "He was very concerned."

"But I was wearing jeans! In Les Miserables! He must think I'm a prostitute!"

"Lovely ladies, waiting for a- OW, again with the throwing?! Really?" Isabella grinned as the stuffed animal bounced off of Maddy's head.

"Not funny," Noelle scolded before bursting into giggles.

"It's okay," Bridget replied. "The book explains the clothing thing."

"The book?" Ally exclaimed, turning from her previous occupation of cheerfully watching Elsa curl up in the corner in her own little ball of agonized humiliation. "When did that come back?"

"Since you threw it at Avi."

"Oh."

"The book says," Bridget continued, "'When you go out in public, you will appear to all canon characters to be wearing typical nineteenth century Paris middle class garb, no matter what you wear.'"

"That's convenient," Noelle commented.

"Very. It says here that it's a plot contrivance."

"It says that in the book?!" Isabella gasped, not really believing her until she looked and saw it for herself.

"I think the book itself is pretty much a plot contrivance," Replied Bridget, setting said book down and examining Marleni's jaw. Luckily, it seemed to be only sore.

"Hey, Elsa, good news!" Bridget called, and Elsa stopped rolling around to look up in surprise that someone was actually speaking to her. "You didn't break Lena's jaw. You can come out of exile now."

"Oh, thank god!" Elsa cried, jumping up and making herself comfortable on her own bed. 'But for the record, Marleni, I am so sorry about that. All of you, I'm really sorry." She had the decency to look and sound ashamed, so she was forgiven by most- Marleni was still a bit sore, physically and emotionally.

"Well, since we've settled that out, why don't we actually go and do something?" Isabella suggested softly. All eyes turned to her. "Well, I'd like to see Jehan again, and perhaps put this plothole thing to good use- we have powers, why don't we use them?"

"Good idea, Bella," Bridget grinned. Ally cleared her throat, and everyone looked to her.

"We also have jail cells, for holding people. I don't know, but I'd like a chance to finally meet some of the Amis..."

"I want Joly!" Bridget cried loudly, which was quite odd for her.

"No, let's get Courfeyrac!" Someone else shouted.

"Combeferre."

"I want to play with Enjolras!"

"What about Bahorel?" Elsa asked. Avi looked at her oddly.

"Who's he?" She cried, brown curls bouncing. "Let's get Courf!"

"I WANT ENJY!" Maddy shrieked.

"No, you get no Enjy! We want Courfeyrac!" Avielle shot back.

"You want Courfeyrac!" Ally retorted. "Maddy and I want ENJOLRAS!"

"No!" cried someone else furiously.

"I would still be perfectly fine with just Bahorel..." Elsa put in quietly.

"NO ONE CARES ABOUT BAHOREL! HE HAS NO FANGIRLS!" Five rabid girls shouted at once.

The argument continued. There were screams, there was even some blood, and everyone was very angry at everyone once it was all over. Isabella tried to sleep over the howling, Noelle just read a magazine in the corner, and Elsa simply plotholed away again, muttering something about being "too sane for this".

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX-

"Are you alright, Combeferre?" Bossuet asked as he helped him up the stairs to the back room.

"I- I believe so. I'm not quite sure, to be honest."

"Who was that girl?" Joly exclaimed. "She looked rather pale. Perhaps she was ill somehow. It certainly wasn't cholera- perhaps a brain disease of some sort."

"Did she rob you?"

"I don't think so," Combeferre replied, sitting down in one of the chairs. He frowned at what he held in his palm. "She did break my glasses, though. I'll need to get new ones." Joly graciously offered him his pair, which he really only needed for reading. They weren't the same as Combeferre's, but they would do.

Glancing around the room, Bossuet exclaimed, "Where on earth did Jehan go? He came down with us, didn't he?"

Joly merely shrugged and examined a small bloody scratch Elsa had inflicted on Combeferre's arm. He worried that it might get infected, but Combeferre insisted that he would be fine. "Can't say I'm sure. I believe he was speaking to one of the young ladies downstairs."

On that note, Jehan ascended the stairs. "She fainted," He announced simply.

"Excuse me?"

"The young mademoiselle I was conversing with downstairs suddenly fainted. I was quite concerned, but her friends assured me that she would be fine." He quickly made his way over to the window and glanced outside for the girls- for one in particular. "At any rate, they seem to have gone."

"Who were they, then?" Combeferre asked, beginning to regain his composure. "And what was the purpose of their attacking me?"

Jehan shrugged. "One young lady, Mademoiselle Ricci- queer name, possibly Italian- she asked me to tell you that she was inexplicably sorry for what had occurred, and that she hoped that you were alright. Apparently her friend was not well."

"Ah," Combeferre nodded slowly. "Well, I'm not terribly injured at any rate. I just don't understand how a someone so small could do something like that..."

Jehan sat down at a table and pulled out his notebook. He wasn't sure what exactly he wanted to write about but he had to _write. _He wrote of a soft voice like an angel, and deep, kind eyes and a sharp mind, a woman who could read. He wrote of a shy but gentle smile and a beautiful laugh like the ringing of bells. He wrote of long brown hair and a soft touch and an worry for her friends. He wrote of her.

And she was all that he could think of that night.

_**AN: So we have the first official pairing, Bella/Jehan. This isn't a romance story though, and the next chapter will have a lot more fangirl fighting and maybe one of the prison cells will finally be filled... I AM evil, aren't I? Sure will be horrible luck for whoever gets caught. Can you guess who it is?**_


	4. In which Enjy almost loses his virginity

A good five hundred yards away and six feet underground, Isabella was writing too- writing a diary entry, that is.

Now, obviously Isabella didn't have her diary with her at the time, but plotholing was extremely useful, you see. For every night ever since she could write, Isabella had kept a diary at her mother's urging. After her father's death when she was seven, Isabella looked back on the memories she had recorded and cherished them. Hereby, she made sure to religiously record the events of the day every night, and now that something actually worth writing had finally happened, she certainly wasn't about to stop now.

She wrote pensively, willfully ignorant of the shouting match on the bunk below her between Ally and Maddy, and Marleni attempting to jump from her bunk to Bridget's on the opposite side of the room. She merely bit her lip and recorded her thoughts, pen against paper.

_"Dear Anne,_

_I find that oftentimes things happen when we are completely caught off guard, and often at the most inopportune times. Such is the way of the world I suppose, and who am I to question the grand design? But, as you see in this current situation, __**things**__ are not always specifically __**bad things**__. _

_Oh, Anne- I think I'm in love!_

_Well, I suppose that I've always known I loved him- indeed, I've mentioned him many, many times. Oh, Anne... I've met __**JEHAN! **__Somehow I've managed to get into the world of Les Miserables. We got struck by lightning, so now all of the Amigas are here! Isn't that something? And now I have these magic powers and I met JEHAN! Oh, he was wonderful! He was so handsome! He has such blond hair and such a firm jaw and a gentle smile, and he's just like I always imagined and oh my god, I love him so much. You know what I went and did? Fainted. I fainted right in front of him, because I didn't realize who he was when I first met him, and oh, I feel like such a fool. I can't believe I fainted. And he didn't even catch me. Oh, the agony. I practically just collapsed into Elle's arms. _

_Everyone's passing out today. I'm worried about Elsa, she went mental and tried to rape Combeferre, and god knows Ally's worse than her. Ally and Maddy are still screaming about which Ami we should kidnap. I honestly- and I know this will sound crazy- I don't want to kidnap Jehan. I want him to still be free... I guess I don't want the other girls to have him. Why don't we just kidnap Joly? Bridget would be happy. She loves Joly even though he has a girlfriend... And boyfriend. Well, Joly's pretty hot. I like him very much._

_Bridget, by the way, is taking this whole thing surprisingly well. I'm surprised she wasn't worried about all of her siblings- I mean, I guess being oldest of five siblings has it's disadvantages. But I would really love having siblings. Mom will be worried. So will Dad too, I guess. I'll write some more about this all later, but JEHAAAAAAAAANNNNNN OH MY GOD I LOVE HIM._

_Yours Forever,_

_Bella"_

As she signed her name at the bottom of the page and closed the book, she became aware that several other girls were standing to leave. The entire matter must have been decided, and it looked like Ally, Elsa, Marleni and Bridget were leaving. Someone had summoned a plothole and the girls stood in front of it. "Coming, Bella?" Ally asked half-way through the plothole. Isabella nodded eargerly, and Ally vanished. The other girls followed suit, and Isabella noticed Noelle keeping a hold on Maddy's arm, presumably so that she wouldn't try to go through and murder Ally- again. Avielle slept in her bed, having been tired out by the previous catfight.

Marleni, last to go, stopped and waited patiently for Isabella to place her diary under her pillow, jump off the bed and join her.

"D'you know what's going on?" Bella asked softly, as the complete darkness of the plothole consumed them for a moment before they stepped out on to cobblestones.

"Yeah, we're gonna kidnap an Ami," Marleni replied.

"I know that Lena, but who? And how will we take him?"

"Not sure. I hope we don't have to hurt him, that wouldn't be fun."

"Who do you hope we get?"

"Enjolras. He's so... Oooh, he's so gourgeous and I love him to death. I want to keep him forever."

"You're going to have to fight with Ally on that one, and Maddy too. Did you see how they were going at it before? What was that about?"

"There can be only one Amiga who gets Enjolras, now that he's a viable option, and Ally's determined to make it her."

"What can we do," Isabella sighed. "She is the chief."

"But he's so dreamy!" Marleni exclaimed.

"I know..." Isabella yawned, frowning at her watch. It was late and she was really tired.

At this point they were hiding in the bushes of a local park. Elsa had, when conjuring this plothole, specifically requested a place where an Ami would pass in the next hour- it never hurt to be specific. This led them to be spit out into the park, where they crouched in the bushes and waited.

"How're we going to catch him?" Bridget whispered to Elsa. She only shrugged and replied that someone might have to jump out and strangle him until he passed out. That might be the only way they could take him down without all jumping on him at once.

They waited for what felt like hours, but really couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. It was late now, almost one in the morning, and a dark park in Paris wasn't the safest place to be, with the likes of Patron-Minette about.

Luckily for the fangirls, two figures soon came along down the road, one talking loudly about arteries or something and carrying a cane. The other wore a top hat, but was distinctly bald in the moonlight. Bridget, to Elsa's right, gasped. Elsa glanced over at her in concern, and saw that an expression of adoration was written across her face. "_Joly_," She sighed and Elsa shook her hand slightly. Her severe expression warned Bridget not to do anything stupid. Elsa didn't want anyone else doing what she had done.

As Joly and Bossuet made their way down the pathway, Ally suddenly held a large, heavy shovel, no doubt plotholed in. She glanced at the rest of the fangirls. Elsa looked hesitant to accept the task, Bridget frankly couldn't be trusted at this point- her eyes had taken on a crazed look and she was foaming slightly at the mouth, Isabella looked half asleep, Marleni was staring off into space- The only one who was ready and willing to do the job was Ally.

She waited until the two men had passed them and were walking away from the bush. Bossuet said something witty about blocked arteries (a topic which it takes a great deal of comedic talent to find a joke about) that made Bridget giggle a bit manically.

Slowly, Ally crept out of the bushes with the heavy shovel and scurried after the two men, hanging the shovel over her shoulder. The men, both tired, slightly inebriated and speaking loudly, did not hear her approach until she raised the shovel up high and brought it down heavily. There was a resounding crack of skull against metal, and one of the bodies crumpled to the pavement.

XXXXX

"That isn't funny, Bossuet!" Joly exclaimed. "If I do end up having a heart attack, then see how you'll laugh."

"How are you on heart attacks? Were we not just speaking of your bad _arteries? _Joly, I'm not sure even you know what's wrong with you anymore, my friend." Bossuet replied, patting his friend's shoulder.

Joly fell silent for a moment and almost felt as if he was being watched. As he was about to turn to look behind him, Bossuet spoke again.

"Do you think Musichetta-"

He was cut off suddenly by a very loud clang, and his hat was knocked off of his head. Bossuet crumpled to the ground. Joly spun around on instinct and came face to face with a tall blonde girl carrying a heavy looking shovel. She wore a fierce look on her face. She grinned and in an instant, Joly realized that he was next.

He jumped back and swung his cane up just as the shovel slammed down directly where his head had been seconds before. The cane met the shovel, and Joly knocked the shovel back and cracked his attacker in the skull with his cane. She fell back, bleeding from the head, and seeing that it was a woman Joly felt bad, but reminded himself that she had attacked him. He immediately turned his attention to Bossuet, who was lying still on the pavement. He shook his friend, but he did not stir.

"Joly!" A loud, high voice cried, and a figure emerged from the bushes. Joly trained his cane on her, but she didn't come any closer. "Joly..." She whispered softly, in what she must have thought was a soothing tone. "I just want to kiss you... It's Bridget."

Joly frowned. he knew no one named Bridget, and certainly wouldn't be kissed by any strange attackers. He briefly wondered if this was related to Combeferre's attack, when two other figures emerged out of the bushes. The blonde girl on the ground's neck snapped towards them.

"Take him," She snarled, her hand up to her head to cover a large gash.

The girls lunged at Joly, and he just had enough time to jump back and take off running. He had to get help, he had to find the police, or Enjolras, or somebody. He would settle for Louis-Phillipe at this point, but people were being attacked and this strange gang had Bossuet-

"Joly!" The girl, Bridget, cried in anguish. "Come back! I want you to love me!"

Joly didn't look back, abandoning his cane and his precious friend. He ran and ran and ran, not stopping until he reached the Cafe Musain where, just as he had hoped, Enjolras was just leaving with Courfeyrac.

"Enjolras!" Joly called frantically, waving his arms. His golden haired friend looked up from his conversation with Courfeyrac, who for his part waved at him, his expression one of bewilderment.

"There's been another attack!" Joly gasped, finally stopping and wondering if his lungs were failing. "Like Combeferre's... They got Bossuet."

Enjolras eyed him seriously, taking in his disheveled appearance and the frantic look in his eyes.

"Where?" Courfeyrac gasped, grabbing Joly by the shoulders to hold him still and calm him.

"Where are they, Joly?" Enjolras asked, more forcefully.

Joly panted some more and pointed up to where he had last seen the strange gang and Bossuet. The three men took off, racing towards the park and only hoping that Bossuet would still be there.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Bossuet was, however, not still there. Bossuet, in fact, had been lucky enough to recieve a painful looking gash to the head and Elsa had quickly deduced that the cut would need stitches. The only one of them who was even remotely qualified to preform a surgery was Elsa, and even then she was a _seventeen year old girl_. She wanted to be a surgeon, but she didn't want to start surgeries _now._

Marleni had nearly been sick at the sight of Bossuet's blood, so she was no help. Ally was sort of out of it from getting caned, Isabella was just _asleep_, and Bridget had run off after Joly. Elsa did not preform well at night- she was a morning person, without a doubt. But she was the only one really functioning at the moment, a stark change from just several hours earlier when she had been attempting rape of a medical student.

_Well_, she thought to herself, _this is just wonderful. I could wake Bella up to help me because I have no idea how to stitch someone's head and she at least knows how to sew- but a drowsy surgeon just might sew his mouth shut. Besides, this is Bossuet! He's got to be used to things like this by now._

_So what will you do? _A voice in her head that Elsa liked to call her inner-Ally voice asked scathingly. _Allow him to bleed to death in a park? _

God no, Elsa certainly didn't want that. But what could she do?

Fortunately, she didn't have to make a descision, for Marleni graciously paused in her heaving to point down the walk. "Who's that?"

Three figures were running towards them. One Elsa quickly recognized as Joly, sans Bridget- he must have lost her somewhere along the road. The other one was quite tall and rather attractive, with chestnut curls and a thin frame, quite well dressed. The third had a sort of un-natural air about him, eerily angelic in a way. Elsa did the first thing she could think of- summoned up a plot hole and got the hell out of there before she lost control and attempted to glomp Enjolras. She thought to grab Bossuet on the way, and in a flash the two were gone. Isabella was out of sight, curled up in a bush, Marleni was behind the bush pretending to gag, and Ally was lying dazed on the walk. She slowly stood, catching sight of the men just as they caught sight of her.

Ally had no question on whom she was looking at- Enjolras. Enjolras also had no question of what he was looking at- namely, a small puddle of blood on the grey walkway, made visible in the moonlight.

Ally lunged, knocking Joly (whom she was still quite sore at, by the way- Ally isn't one to forgive attempted murder quickly) over and tackling Enjolras, screaming.

"OH MY GOD ENJOLRAS I LOVE YOU WILL YOU LET ME HAVE YOUR BABIES!"

After this horrific abuse of the common exclaimation point, Ally proceeded to attempt to kiss the shocked Enjolras, who turned his head at just the right time as to land a kiss on the cheek. Enjolras had absolutely no idea how to repond to this- mainly because it was barely coherent- but that was fine because Ally wasn't done quite yet, and his friends were utterly defenseless seeing as Bridget had finally caught up and was currently chasing Joly across the grassy square (who knew she could run that fast?) and Marleni had set herself on Courfeyrac and the two were currently fighting with a stick and Joly's discarded cane. But their duel was quickly forgotten when they both saw what occurred next.

Ally turned Enjolras' head and began passionately kissing him. The poor stunned Apollo vainly struggled to push her off, but Ally had determination, willpower and, perhaps most importantly, a strong grip around the young revolutionary's neck.

This went on for several minutes, with both Marleni and Courfeyrac completely absorbed in the scene in front of them. Enjolras eventually resorted to slapping the ground with his fists, as Ally sat herself on his arms.

"This is... incredible. I never thought I'd live to see this day," Courfeyrac mumbled, and Marleni smiled, summoning a plothole behind his back and mentally calculating wether or not it would be a good idea to push him through. Just then, though, Bridget called out from the bush, waving her arms wildly.

"Run," She called, "Joly left to get help!" She summoned her own plothole and tossed Isabella through, diving in herself. Marleni sighed softly and pulled Ally off of Enjolras.

"Ally, we have to go. Joly left."

Ally moaned and glanced at Courfeyrac, who shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea what just occured, honestly."

"Walk away," Ally advised, panting. "You didn't see anything." With that, the two girls jumped through the plothole and vanished.

Courfeyrac merely stared at Enjolras, lying still on the walk, eyes wide and hands shaking. "I probably should not be so happy about that." He helped his friend up, and Enjolras quickly regained his composure.

"Those women," He frowned, "Are the same ones who attacked Combeferre and Joly. They took Bossuet, and now one of them..." He wasn't able to continue. He merely eyed Courfeyrac sternly.

_"We must stop them."_


	5. In which almost no one knows Latin

Avielle opened her eyes and immediately slammed them shut again. It was morning- her least favorite time of the day- on a twenty seventh- her least favorite day of the month. Twenty sevenths (as well as twos and fifteenths) meant waking up early and going to visit her crazy great aunt, Aunt Julia. Aunt Julia seemed to think she was a psychic, and loved nothing more that predicting her loved one's gruesome demises. At their last visit, Aunt Julia had kindly informed Avielle that they would not see each other again. Apparently Avielle was going to get hit by lightning and cross over into "the other realm".

Oh. Wait.

Avielle grinned as she realized that for once, Aunt Julia had been right. She was still in Paris, meaning her parents would have no reason to make her miss the first few hours of school to see her crazy aunt. It was eight in the morning and the world was _hers._

Avielle sat up straight and threw off the purple covers, jumping from her top bunk. Surprisingly Marleni, who slept below her, wasn't disturbed by this at all. Mostly everyone else was sleeping. Bridget was already up, and sat in her bunk, fully engrossed in some song that she was writing. She was so quiet that Avi almost didn't notice her.

Ally was still asleep, a sort of bandage on the side of her forehead. Elsa had already made her bed, _of course_, and was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Elsa?" Avielle whispered up to Bridget.

Not bothered in the least by this unorthodox 'good morning', Bridget gestured to the door that supposedly led into the prison room. "Operating on an Ami."

Oh. Wow, that was new. Ever since she was little, Elsa had always loved to do some odd things, such as spend her time actually studying and writing her short stories and finding dead squirrels in abandoned alleys and dissecting them. Mostly the dissection part was what Avielle found really odd, but she had sworn when they were twelve that she would never actually kill a human and cut them open- Oh my god.

"What did I miss?! She promised me she wouldn't ever kill anyone!" Avi cried, running over to the computer to see if she could spot Elsa working in one of the cells. There was no one to be seen.

"She didn't kill anyone." Bridget replied, in what was likely an attempt to calm Avielle. "Ally hit him with a shovel."

"In what dimension is _that _any better?"

Ally was really not supposed to be given sharp objects. She had the tendency of losing her temper easily. Avielle and Elsa had met Ally in pre-school. Ally had been transferred to their class because a boy laughed at her when she got in trouble, so four year old Ally stood up, walked over to him with all the dignity of a ethereal revolutionary leader about to get executed by firing squad with his drunken fanboy by his side, and punched the kid straight in the face, breaking his nose. Then she started crying, because she said she _hurt her hand_. _Whose_ idea was it to give her a shovel?

"Well, it was Bossuet. He would have gotten hit by a shovel anyway, probably," Bridget shrugged, going back to her writing.

"So Elsa's operating on him?"

"No. She isn't legally allowed to. That would be a disaster. However, she did manage to plothole up a bit character doctor to do it for her, which is just fine. Good thing she did, too. He was bleeding all over Ally's carpet and Ally was already angry enough."

Avielle opened the door, muttering something about plot contrivances and how hard it is to get blood stains out of a carpet, and came face to face with something terrifying.

The door led into sort of a kitchen. There was a sink, a table, and several cabinets. A bald man with a large row of stitches on his head lay flat out on the metal table, and Elsa was furiously scrubbing blood off of her hands at the sink.

"Ohgodelsa-"

"I didn't kill him!" Elsa shot back, hardly caring what her friend thought. If she wanted to kill him, she would have _done it _already, and besides she would never kill an Ami.

"Is that-" Avielle stammered, finally noticing exactly who was on the table. "Is t-that- oh my god, Bossuet!"

"Yep," Elsa grinned, spinning around to face her friend. "We caught him last night. Ally hit him with a shovel, Joly hit her with his cane, Ally made out with Enjolras, we brought Bossuet back here-"

"Hold it," Avielle stopped her, eyes going wide. "Ally did what?"

Elsa merely smirked, walking over to the table. "He should be waking up soon, the sedatives I gave him won't last more that another twenty minutes," She began to slide him off the table, but he slipped of the side and crashed to the floor. _Obviously no one was kidding when they mentioned his bad luck, _Elsa thought, grabbing him under his arms and summoning a plothole. Easiest way to get around, honestly, especially for teenage girls with as much upper body strength as a seven year old. She simply shoved him into the plothole leading to one of the cells and was done with it.

"So," She began, leaning on the side of the table and undoing her dark hair from the little bun she had piled on top of her head. "What do you want to do today?"

"Uhh, I'm not sure, but I have some ideas." Avielle replied. "I've always wanted to meet Eponine."

"Ooh, good idea!" gasped Elsa, bouncing back from the table. "Where could we find her?"

"Where ever Marius is."

"Right. So, Éponine is at the... Gorbeau house? Presumably the attack hasn't occurred yet."

"The... what?"

"Oh, never mind," Elsa sighed. "Let's just go to _Marius's house_, okay?"

Avielle nodded cheerfully, and Elsa summoned yet another plothole to take them there. "You haven't read the book, have you?" She asked softly as they stepped through the plothole.

"No," Avielle replied seriously.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Psst! Bridget," Isabella whispered, climbing up the little ladder to her best friends higher bunk. Bridget gasped, obviously not expecting anyone else to be awake. She frowned at her friend. "Bella, you scared me. What is it?"

Isabella grinned slyly at her. "I want to go out." Bridget tilted her head, looking confused, and Isabella sighed. "Sneak out. I want to meet someone."

"Who?" Bridget asked, setting down her notebook and pencil.

"Uhh... Someone."

"No!" Bridget gasped.

"Yes!"

"Prouvaire?"

"Yes, yes, now be quiet, please Bridget. Ally won't let me go and Avi and Maddy will tease me for life, and Elsa will look down on me in quiet disapproval, and if I still want to go she might bite me. _Please_," She begged. She made her eyes go really wide and tilted her chin down, fluttering her eyelashes and sticking out her lower lip. Bridget called it the "Doe Look", and Isabella only used it when she really wanted something. And she really wanted to go and meet Prouvaire.

Bridget sighed in defeat and jumped off of her bunk. "Fine. Do you even know where he'll be?"

"No," Isabella replied softly, going over to the mirror and checking her reflection. She wondered if she should fix her hair, but realized that it would appear fixed anyway, so she just ran Ally's comb through it a few times. "But," she continued, turning to the dubious Bridget, "What are plotholes for?"

"Plotholes can't solve all your problems," Bridget shot back, taking the comb from her and tugging it through her own brown hair.

"No, but they sure do come in handy."

Bridget rolled her eyes and turned to her friend. "Fine, let's go."

Isabella grinned and jumped in the air a bit. Bridget smiled at her delighted friend. Besides, it would be pretty awesome to meet JEAN PROUVAIRE.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Jehan was an early riser. He always had been, often waking up before the day just because he liked to see the sun rise up over the horizon, filling the sky with light. Night was beautiful, but day was even better.

On that particular morning, he had left his house at around eight in the morning. He had no classes today, and figured that he would go walking in a park near his street; he could not for the life of him think of the name of the park, but he knew that it was a park.

He brought one of his books with him, _Juvenal's Sixth Satire. _He had learned Latin in order to read Juvenal, and thought that overall his works were most impressive.

As he sat on the bench that morning, he became lost in his own thoughts (as he was apt to do on a particularly beautiful morning such as this one), and soon his mind wandered back to Combeferre's attack the night before and all of his questions.

Say the girl who attacked Combeferre did have some sort of problem. Why would she be allowed to wander around where she could turn violent so easily? And what exactly had provoked her? Minutes before Combeferre was attacked, he himself had passed by the very spot. So how long was she there for, and why Combeferre? And the beautiful, mysterious Isabella Ricci and her friends, whom Jehan was certain she had named but he had quite forgotten them by now- who exactly were they?

He still had the poem that he had written about Mademoiselle Ricci last night- she had haunted his thoughts all evening, like a shadow or a phantom, fascinating him and distracting him at the same time.

Just as he was thinking this, who would walk by him than Mademoiselle Ricci herself? She caught sight of him immediately, gasped and waved her hand. Jehan wondered what a young woman like her was doing walking alone so early in the day. She raced over to him and sat herself next to him.

"Good morning!" She smiled, showing off rows of cream colored teeth, and Jehan returned it almost unconsciously. "Nice day, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's beautiful," He replied, setting his book down next to him. Her eyes wandered to it and her smile turned in to an amused grin.

"Juvenal, Sixth Satire. _The Ways Of Women_?"

Jehan nodded, realizing for the first time that some women might be easily offended by the book. Luckily for him, Mademoiselle Ricci was not.

Luckily for Isabella, she and Bridget had been hiding in a bush when he walked past- bushes being a favorite hangout for fangirls- and had spotted the book. Isabella had not read it, but both Bridget and Elsa had, for the specific reason that Hugo had mentioned that Jehan had read it. Bridget had given her a quick summary of what the satire was about.

"That was very interesting to me. In it, women are depicted as unchaste and easily tempted- not at all true in my point of view- and Juvenal compares them unfavorably to the purer women of the past. However Juvenal is also critical of men who do not care for their wives, or who marry only for money rather than for love. Juvenal's satire seems to be a reproach towards the modern world in general, and he longs for a return to the old values of the past. It's certainly an interesting theory."

Jehan's jaw dropped for a split second. Isabella certainly did not look as if she was from a particularly prominent background, yet she was able to read and understand Juvenal easily. This was certainly unexpected, and rather interesting. Jehan found himself even more curious about the strange woman. "You- you read Latin?"

Mademoiselle Ricci's face blanced and she made a sort of strangled sound hat could have either indicated shock or choking. "Ahh, Latin?" she hesitated for a moment, glaring at a bush just behind Jehan, who turned to see what she was looking at but could find nothing. "Uhh, yes. Latin. Yes, I read Latin. As do you?"

"Yes," Replied he, turning back to face her. "As well as Hebrew, Greek and Italian. Also some English, although I am not very skilled. What other languages do you know?"

She frowned and laughed nervously. "Well, my father was Italian-American, second generation. He grew up with Italian and English, so I know some spare Italian phrases he used to tease me with. Not much." She smiled at him coyly. "_Il mia angela_... however, I'm afraid that that is the extent of my Italian. I know English- fluently, might I add- and I know a bit of Spanish. And French, apparently. While not nearly as impressive as your repertoire, I am rather proud of my academic accomplishments."

Jehan nodded, and then realized she had mentioned America. He had always held the American Revolution of sixty years ago in fascination. "Are you in fact from America?"

She nodded proudly. "Born and raised. _Vive la America_. But," She continued, "I... Moved to France three years ago, and I am fascinated by this beautiful country..." Isabella was just making stuff up now. "And it's horrific poverty. Do you know anything of that, Monsieur Prouvaire?"

Finally on a topic that Jehan could go on about, he spoke seriously of his personal opinions, the poverty of the country as a whole, and his hopes for the new Republic- making sure to leave out anything involving overthrowing the actual government... some things you don't speak plainly of, obviously.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Honestly, Bridget did not realize that Jehan was reading the untranslated version. She did not know Latin. Isabella did not know Latin. No one that Bridget knew had any concept of Latin.

Well, this was awkward.

She couldn't hear the conversation, but she could make out snippets. She heard Isabella mention poverty, and then the conversation really picked up. Smiling slightly, Bridget sat back in the bush and was content to watch some clouds- when a large, ominous figure suddenly blocked her view.

Her first thought was, of course, _HOLYCRAPMONTPARNASSEHESGONNAKNIFEME- _and then she realized that it wasn't actually the murderous dandy at all. No, it was worse. It was a raging Ally.

"Where _have_ you been?" She cried, grabbing Bridget's wrist- her bad wrist, at that- and yanking her out of the bush. Prouvaire and Isabella looked up briefly, and Bridget cast a glance at them, pleading with them to save her from Ally- but they pretended she wasn't there, as usual.

"What in the name of Hugo is going on here, Bridget? Is that Isabella?" She started to make her way towards the couple, but Bridget pulled her back.

"Ally," She hissed, "Stop, don't they're on a date!"

This caught Ally's attention. Isabella was dating Jehan. _Isabella _was dating _Jehan. _Isabella, quiet, tiny little Isabella who got pushed around by everyone and their dog but was never bitter about it because she was just so _nice_, got her smoking hot Barricade Boy while Ally had to tackle Enjolras just in order to kiss him.

It. Was. Not. FAIR.

Ally was jealous. Ally became jealous very easily. Ally was the type of person who enjoyed being in charge of everything, and the fact that someone had snuck out without her knowledge and was now on a date with her one true love was just too much for her. So, Ally decided to take the route pretty much any father of a teenage girl would like to take, and decided that she would hit Jehan over the head with her trusty shovel, tie him up and take him to prison. (Shh, if you listen really closely you can hear Valjean applauding in the background.)

But Bridget grabbed her by the shoulders and tugged her back. "No, Ally! Isabella said that if you injure her Barricade Boy then she'll never forgive you."

"Isabella always says that, and she always forgives everyone. She can't stay mad at anyone." Retorted Ally, swinging the shovel at Bridget and making her jump back before charging out from behind the bush, waving the shovel like a psycho.

Isabella looked up first and screamed, loudly and shrilly. Jehan jumped up and turned to face Ally just as she swung the shovel at his head. He jumped back just in time, and Ally snarled furiously. Apparently ballistic teenagers have really bad aim.

At this point Isabella, really not keen on seeing _her_ boyfriend needing stitches anytime soon, dove in front of him and shielded him from her friend. "No, Ally, don't hit him, please, he's my friend!"

But you see, Isabella was 5'1" and weighed 110 pounds soaking wet. Ally was almost six feet and weight 150.

In other words, Ally knocked Isabella aside as if she were a kitten. Jehan, distracted by Isabella landing hard on the pavement, did not remember that he was supposed to duck the giant metal shovel sailing towards his head. Subsequently he was knocked back as well, and did not move again.

And Bridget just sat there, criss-cross on the ground with her chin in her palm, watching the entire thing.

"Oh my god!" Isabella gasped, crawling over to her lust object. "My Barricade Boy! Ally, you've killed him! How could you?!"

"He's not dead," Bridget pointed out helpfully, poking said revolutionary in the back. "He's moving. See?"

Isabella, relieved that her precious was still breathing, immediately began trying to revive him while Ally bound his hands and feet with some duct tape.

"Oh, Ally, don't cover his mouth, I'll keep him quiet, I swear," Isabella cradled Jehan's head in her hands, brushing back his blond hair. His eyes were half open and were darting around in confusion. He mumbled something Isabella couldn't understand- possibly Latin- and then leaned over to whisper to Bridget. "He's awfully handsome with a concussion."

At this point, the small gamin known as Gavroche who had been watching with fascination wandered away, grateful for a good show in the morning.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Jehan was confused. He was tired, his head hurt, he was very cold, and he was confused. He could hardly open his eyes, but could see that he was lying on some sort of uncomfortable bed with the sheets, pulled up to his shoulders, doing nothing to keep out the chill of the room. He felt some relief from the cold, however, by the warm hand stroking his back. He briefly registered that his head was lying on someone's lap, a woman's lap based on the soft warm skirt. From what he could see of it, it was a grassy green that he might have recognized from somewhere... If only his head didn't hurt so much.

He felt another hand stroking his head, and heard a soft voice, soothing and peaceful. He couldn't make out the words, they sounded a bit like a buzzing sound, but they did not come off as irritating. The buzzing faded along with the ringing in his ears, and at last he cold hear the words that the soft voice sang.

_"At the end of the day you're another day colder_

_And the shirt on your back doesn't keep out the chill_

_And the righteous hurry past_

_They don't hear the little ones crying_

_And the winter is coming on fast, ready to kill_

_One day nearer to dying!"_

He knew that he recognized the voice from somewhere and he tried to look up, but found that he couldn't move. He felt something around his wrists and ankles and realized that he had been bound. He heard another voice, deeper this time, calling his name from somewhere. His eyes opened wide. Bossuet! He tried to move again, deeply disturbed at the thought that Bossuet would be cradling him and singing to him. But eventually he realized that his head was still spinning to much to move and Bossuet did not have such a high, soft singing voice. If he did, then Jehan would honestly be disturbed, not to mention all the necessary conversation about why on earth they would be having this moment together...

_"At the end of the day there's another day dawning_

_And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise_

_Like the waves crash on the sand_

_Like a storm that'll break any second_

_There's a hunger in the land_

_There's a reckoning still to be reckoned and_

_There's gonna be hell to pay_

_At the end of the day!"_

He finally managed to move his head and the singer stopped abruptly and gasped. "Jehan?" whispered a voice that he finally recognized to belong to Mademoiselle Ricci. He tried to answer, but only managed a groan.

"Oh, it's alright," Soothed the young woman. "You hit your head, but it will be okay- I'm not going to let anyone touch you again."

Jehan wondered what on earth was going on as he fully opened his eyes and found himself in a cell.

_**AN: More Isabella/Jehan and more prisoners. And that's not even counting what Elsa and Avi got up to...**_


	6. In which Gavroche passes out

Once Marleni, Maddy and Noelle woke up, they were all alone.

"Huh," Maddy frowned, sitting up in her bed and crossing her arms. "We're alone. Again. God, why does this always happen to us?"

"No one ever takes us anywhere," Marleni agreed, sulking from where she lay, for some reason on the floor next to the bed.

"You're one to talk," Noelle shot back, sliding off of her bed easily. "_You_ got to go kidnapping last night."

"Oh. Yeah." Marleni frowned, smiling fondly at the memory. The three girls were silent for a moment before suddenly Marleni spoke again. "My foster sister got hit by a car once."

"What?!" Maddy exclaimed, nearly falling off of her bunk.

"Yeah. I was the only one with her at the time too. It's easy to see how that placement didn't work out. But in my defense, I did look up and shout 'Car!' at her. When someone says 'car' while you're walking in the middle of the street, you don't just turn to look at them, you run away from the car, duh," Marleni stopped for breath and noticed the alarmed looks on her friends faces. "She was alright, though," She added hastily, before pausing again. "I think…"

"And, on that note-" Noelle began, before Maddy interrupted her, obviously very engrossed in the story.

"Wait, wait, I'm actually interested in this."

"Maddy!" Noelle exclaimed, elbowing her in the side.

"Oh, alright then. Where'd everybody go?"

"Well," said Marleni, "Last I heard of Elsa, she had to go find someone to stitch up Bossuet because he broke his head. Don't think she's still there though, so she probably went to molest Combeferre again, and Avi probably went with her. Maybe Ally too, those three do most things together, so… Actually, maybe they went after all three, Combeferre for Elsa, Courfeyrac for Avi and Enjolras for Ally. That would sort of make sense. And Bella and Bridget could just be anywhere, no one really knows with them anymore. Oh, you should have seen Bridget last night when she spotted Joly, she was almost worse than Elsa- say what you want about Avi, but at least she can keep her head when faced with her Ami of choice. Of course, that could just be because she actually has no preferences whatsoever- as long as it's hot and breathing, she'll- I should probably stop talking now, shouldn't I?"

"Yes," replied Maddy. "You always talk that much?"

"Only when there aren't too many people around. Otherwise it's easier just to shut up."

"Not to interrupt, but what are we supposed to do now?" Noelle spoke up at last. Marleni grinned, and Noelle was a bit disturbed by the gleam in her eyes.

"Didn't you hear me? We kidnapped Bossuet. I'm sure he's out of surgery now, so…."

"We're all alone. We could have some fun." Maddy grinned, showing off two slightly pointed incisors that always freaked others out and was one of the main reasons that she loved to smile so much. "Oh, yessssss…."

Noelle, who had a good idea of where this conversation was headed and, being of a completely different breed of fangirl than her friends, wanted absolutely no part in it. "I, uh…" She had absolutely no idea what she should say, so she just said the first thing that popped in to her head. "I can't go, see you later!" She then proceeded to plothole out of there with all the speed of a Barricade Boy fleeing from the National Guard.

"That was… odd." Marleni frowned, making for the door with Maddy following closely.

"Yeah..." Maddy, however, felt some sympathy for her best friend. While she and her older sister Alexandra weren't that close and fought often, Noelle and her eighteen year old brother Finn were really close and had the ideal brother-sister relationship that most parents can only dream about. Even before their mother's death, the Piatek siblings had always been close, but now that they were being raised by their father they needed each other more than ever, so they had grown even closer over the past three years. Noelle was surely missing Finn and her father.

Or she just could have no interest in Bossuet. Either way, Maddy felt bad for her as she and Marleni slipped inside said man's cell. He looked up at them in surprise and immediately demanded to know where he was, but he wasn't getting any easy answers…

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Eponine!"

Eponine cast a quick glance over her shoulder, not slowing her quick pace. She had been sent out by her father to deliver a letter to some baron or other, and she was in a hurry. She wanted to find Monsieur Marius, and had little time for small talk, especially with total strangers.

The two bourgeois women running towards her wore long dresses, and they ran at such a rate that Eponine was amazed that they didn't trip over the dress, as if they weren't even aware of them. One wore a purple dress with large puffed up sleeves. Her brown curls weren't pinned up, and they flew behind her as she ran. The other, whose dark hair was pinned tightly upon her head, was trailing after the purple one. She wore a luxurious looking blue gown. How did these women know her name? Eponine contemplated stopping. Perhaps she could weasel a few francs out of them for dinner tonight.

The women caught up with little trouble- if Eponine had really wanted to run from them, they would not have caught her at all. The purple one wore a silly grin on her round face, and giggled like a child. "Elsaaaaa," She whispered to her companion, elbowing her in the side- roughly, apparently, for the blue woman flinched. "It's 'Poniiiiiiine…."

The blue one smiled, looking oddly happy to be speaking to a street gamine. "Good morning, Miss Thenardier! Lovely day, isn't it?"

Eponine frowned, wondering what exactly these women wanted- and if they were carrying any cash inside those big sleeves of theirs. "Who're you? How do you know my name?"

"Oh, we're big fans. Your love for Marius is just so… epic and unrequited and you're so cool and nice and so much better than that slutty Cosette and you're totally awesome. You understand," Purple replied, all in one breath.

"Understand what?" Eponine asked, completely lost. How would these people know about Monsieur Marius? And who was Cosette?

"Life, 'Ponine. _Life._ Marius should totally love you."

"I actually don't mind Cosette. I think she's a decent character, and I think it's unfair that she's hated because she got the guy in the end. She's a typical model of what a good nineteenth century Parisian girl should be, and she ties all of the other-" The one called Elsa began, but Purple elbowed her again, and she made a sort of gasping noise before falling silent, face contorted in pain. Eponine was unconcerned, turning all of her attention to Purple.

"Who exactly are you, then?"

"I'm Avielle, and this is Elsa. We're fangirls, see. We firmly believe that the Barricade Boys- Marius' little revolutionary buddies who he never actualy talks to- should love us. And we believe that you and Marius belong together, or at least I do."

Eponine wondered what on earth this girl was talking about, and then wondered why she was even still here. This girl was making no sense. While the one known as Avielle was distracted by her friend falling to the ground gasping and muttering something about getting elbowed in the lung, Eponine began to slip away. "Wait!" Called the girl, looking up, and there was just enough desperation in her voice to make Eponine look back. "You're my childhood hero- I admire you and strive to be just like you. I think you're too good for Marius, and he doesn't deserve you. I know your future. I can tell you."

Eponine shook her head. "You're mad. I ain't got enough money to pay for some stupid fortune teller." She started off, but the girl called after her.

"For free!" When Eponine still didn't turn around, she tried once more, voice taking on a dejected tone. "I only want to help you, Eponine. It's not charity."

She stood and began imitating Eponine's brisk pace, keeping up with her. Eponine didn't try to go any faster. "You die, you know. At the barricades. You die saving Marius' life from a sniper. He kisses you on the forehead and holds you."

This made Eponine stop abruptly. Monsieur Marius… kissing her? Well, if anything was to get her attention- maybe she ought to listen, just for a minute... "What else happens?" She asked suddenly, actually curious at this point.

"He falls in love with someone else." The blue dress girl joins them. "He falls in love with Cosette, the Lark of your childhood."

Eponine frowned, not really able to place the name until- oh. _That_ Cosette. "Cosette! Really, whatever became of the beast?" Compared to what Eponine had been reduced to, she hoped _the Lark_ was miserable. At least Eponine could _read_. Her mother taught her. Eponine doubted that Cosette's mother could read, and she never taught her daughter anything anyway. Maybe the Lark still didn't know anything. Eponine might still be better than her- which wasn't hard. Eponine _was_ better.

"She was educated at a convent, as a Mademoiselle Fauchelevant. She will meet Marius and they will fall in love, and Marius won't ever love you even though you adore him. You'll die on that Barricade and he'll live and marry her. That's exactly what happens," Elsa explained, not missing the shadow that fell over Eponine's gaunt face.

"We can help you, 'Ponine. We can help you make Marius notice you. We can make him love you. Isn't that what you want, after all? A handsome prince- baron, actually- to sweep you off your feet and carry you away from this awful life? We can do that," the girl coaxed. "We can give you a happy ending."

"You can join us, you know. We don't have any Marius fangirls yet. You can come back to our base with us. We have special powers, we can probably give them to you. There is no Marius fangirl in our group- _you_ can be the Marius fangirl, 'Ponine. You don't even have to come back with us, if you don't want to. We just need you to work with us."

This could be worth considering, actually. If they were really offering something good- a chance at a new life- then that was incredible. And if they were just crazy, she could at least pick their pockets and run, at any rate. Whatever they had to offer was probably better than flinging herself into the Seine. "I know my way around," Eponine said slowly, deliberating each word. "You can make M'sieur Marius love me, you say?"

"Yes, that's how it works," Elsa nodded. "We're doing the same for ourselves."

Hmm... what did she have to lose? "I'll help," Eponine nodded. "I'll do whatever it takes." If Monsieur Marius could love her- well, that was all she really wanted.

"Wonderful," Elsa smiled. "We're gonna try to give you the ability to summon these things called plotholes. By using them, you can summon anything at any moment. Let's say you want a loaf of bread. Focus on getting a loaf of bread and one will appear in your hand. You can also create a plothole that, by stepping through, will take you anywhere you wish. Is this alright with you?"

Eponine nodded, genuinely interested and eager to try.

The girls consulted in hushed tones for a minute, seeming almost to be having a passive agressive argument, complete with pasted smiles, and Eponine couldn't help but hear two or three lines of dialogue that probably should have been kept a bit quieter.

"Try what?"

"I'm just saying that if we really-" Inaudible murmuring followed.

"That could kill her!"

"I think if she hasn't died by now, she should be good!"

"She does die!"

"Yeah, she gets shot. I'd die too. Now come on, just try it!"

"I won't-"

"Combeferre would."

"Oh... I hate you."

And a descision was made.

The girls turned to face Eponine, who was honestly wondering whether this was all worth it now. "Just hold still," said Elsa as the two girls joined hands and narrowed their eyes at her. There was a very awkward moment that followed where they stared at Eponine and she stared at them and nothing really happened, and just as Eponine was about to walk away Avielle let out a frustrated cry and shouted, "just work already!"

And suddenly a large ball of blue light burst from the two girl's torsos, joining together and smacking Eponine head on, nearly knocking her back. She gasped in spite of herself, and looked down at her fingertips to see a little bit of blue light fading into her skin. _Mon dieu_, she thought, _what __**was **__that?_

"Did it work?" Avielle asked excitedly, bouncing on her heels and looking for all the world like Gavroche when he was extremely happy about something or other. "Can you summon plotholes?"

Eponine frowned, not exactly sure what to do. "How does this work, again?" She asked.

"Just focus really hard. C'mon, try it, try it, try it!"

Eponine frowned, not sure exactly what to focus on. Just then, her stomach growled- she hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. She recalled the example that the girls had given and focused all her mental strength on getting a loaf of bread for breakfast.

She was startled by a high pitched squeal from Avielle, and glanced up. Said fangirl was staring at Eponine's hand, and she looked down to see- a loaf of bread.

What in the-

"It works!" Cried Avi, excitedly jumping up and down. She ran over and hugged Eponine tightly. Eponine instinctively pushed her away, but she didn't seem to mind. "Oh my god, it works! We're like sisters now, oh my god, I can't believe it!"

Elsa, for her part, was a bit more composed, settling on laughing happily. She turned to Eponine with a grin. "Eponine, you are now officially an Amiga de los Miserables. Be careful your father doesn't find out about your new power, who knows what he'll do. I would recommend you go feed your family now. But Avi's right- we are like sisters. If you ever need us, just plothole to the Amiga base. When we need you, we'll call." With that she began slowly backing away, grabbing the still-squealing Avielle by the back of her dress and dragging her away.

Eponine could not have been happier. Her family's financial problems were over, now that she could summon money… She quickly began eating the delicious bread, realizing that for once she could eat as much as she liked. If she had money, maybe Monsieur Marius would notice her.

This was perfect, and Eponine had the feeling that it was about to get a lot better with these odd girls.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Avielle was squeeing. Loudly.

"Shut up!" Elsa cried, whacking her friend upside the head. "You almost blew things with Eponine. Really Avi, must you be so hopelessly blunt about _everything_?"

"Yes."

Elsa sighed in exasperation, but she smiled when she spoke again. "That was pretty surreal. Eponine is an Amiga now. _Eponine_ is an _Amiga_ now. How much more amazing can this get?"

"Well, I just saw Gavroche, if that helps. He was walking away from the park. See, right there?"

Elsa gasped in delight. "Oh my god, Gavroche! Oh geez, he's so cute! I love him so much! Can I keep him?"

Avielle shrugged. "Sure. Why not? Just how should we go about doing this? Something tells me that the kid is dangerous as hell."

"He is," Elsa nodded. "He's been associating with Patron-Minette. But I love him so much…" She sighed wistfully, but then brightened up as a new idea occurred to her. "I have an idea."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

The rag smelt horrible, so Elsa and Avi were careful not to breathe anything in. Avielle still had absolutely no idea who exactly was using chloroform around Elsa's house- all the genius would say was that her cousin and his wife had some really weird fetishes. At any rate, Elsa now held a rag covered in chloroform, and the two women moved briskly after the young gamin, who did not realize that he was being followed amidst the bustle of the street. Gavroche wasn't hurrying, so it wasn't hard for the two to keep up with him. He steered down an old alley, away from the crowd in the street, and the fangirls followed. Separated from the noise of the crowds of busting people, he quickly became aware of someone following him. Just as he spun around to meet them, a hand closed over his mouth and another pair of arms held him still.

Elsa clasped her hand over Gavroche's mouth tightly, pressing the rag against his mouth. She honestly didn't think it would be too hard to abduct a ten year old, and it wasn't proving to be as Gavroche gasped in surprise and inhaled the chloroform.

But Gavroche was tough, a street kid and a skilled fighter. He quickly landed a blow to Avielle's stomach that took the breath out of her and knocked her back. Elsa was shocked but kept the rag on and Gavroche involuntarily took another short breath. He kicked her in the knee and she cried out, falling to the ground. Gavroche then took off, not really understanding what was going on. He stumbled, his feet feeling numb. His vision swam and he felt that he would be sick. He realized that his hearing was failing, and tripped just as he exited the alley into a mostly empty street. He coughed as his vision began to fail, and the world span. He tried to get up, but he just couldn't manage it.

Faintly, he heard his name being called and felt strong arms lift him up off of the ground. He squirmed, thinking it was the women, but his hearing cleared up enough to recognize the voice. It was Courfeyrac, one of the revolutionaries he knew.

"Gavroche? Gavroche, what happened, what's the matter?" Courfeyrac asked, slightly panicked at the little boy limp in his arms.

"Two… Two ladies…" Gavroche murmured, his words coming out slurred. "Attacked me…"

Courfeyrac looked down the alley and saw two women. He recognized one of them from a description of Combeferre's attacker. His breath hitched in his throat- it was the women, and they were going after Gavroche now. As amused as he might have been by the Enjolras incident, this wasn't a game any longer. He took off running, the little boy in his arms.

"It's alright, Gavroche," Courfeyrac murmured as he came out into a more crowded street, safe from the women. Gavroche could hardly understand him, but he recognized the comforting tone and allowed himself to slip into blackness.

Courfeyrac glanced down at the limp little boy in concern. He had no idea whether the women had hit him in the head or drugged him, but he knew that the boy needed help. He quickly took stock of his surroundings and deduced that Combeferre's apartment was several streets down. The medical student would know what to do. He took off down the street. Enjolras was right, this was getting serious.

Who were these women and what did they want? Courfeyrac decided that, with Bossuet possibly missing and Gavroche… Well, Courfeyrac decided that it was time to go to the police.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXX-

After the attack of Jehan, Ally, Bridget and Isabella plotholed into an empty cell. Bella refused to leave Jehan's side, so Ally and Bridget left them to themselves. They waited for twenty minutes, with Ally firmly deciding to apologize to Isabella for nearly murdering her boyfriend. Bridget was rather angry, and retreated to her notebook once more.

Ally found Marleni and Maddy exiting Bossuet's cell with very pleased looks on their faces. "Have fun?" She asked with a smirk.

"I should say so," Replied Maddy. "I kissed a Barricade Boy. Best. Day. EVAR."

Ally smiled sheepishly. "I hit Jehan with a shovel."

"What?"

"I- I just-"

"Ally," gasped Marleni, "Prouvaire is such a sweetheart! How could you?"

"Well, we have him with us now," Ally cried in a futile effort to defend herself.

"I'm not touching him," Marleni exclaimed. "Isabella called dibs. I really do not approve, Ally." Marleni shook her head, casting a frown at Ally over her shoulder as the two girls left, leaving Ally to stare at their retreating forms.

"I already feel guilty enough, thanks," She muttered, walking over to Bossuet's cell. He was curled up in a ball in the corner of the bed, looking angry and violated. "Hey, your poet friend is here too." Bossuet's anger immediately melted away in favor of his natural concern for his friends. "Jehan? Where? Is he alright?" He began yelling for his friend, but received no reply, and Ally slowly retreated into the group bedroom, resolving to apologize when Isabella exited the cell.

Avi and Elsa returned with good news and bad news, and this caused excited tittering among the girls. Happy to have Elsa back, Ally quickly informed her of the problem.

"You- Oh, god, Ally. No." Elsa moaned, and Ally was even more ashamed.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, but Elsa simply sighed and shook her head. Ally was at a loss. How does one properly apologize for nearly killing an Ami?

_**AN: Okay, Gav and 'Ponine make appearances, yay! Seriously, do not get in to a street fight with Gavroche. He's okay, by the way. See how the Amigas are slowly becoming more sophisticated in kidnapping, from glomping to chloroform?**_


	7. In which Jehan sustains brain trauma

"Where…" That was all that Jehan could manage to get out. His tongue felt heavy and thick, and the room seemed to be spinning. He tried to raise his head but found himself unable to do so. The young woman went back to stroking his head, keeping him from trying to move it again.

"You're safe, it's alright. I know this place; I brought you here after you fell. Don't worry, you're fine."

He tried to speak again, but this time his words weren't even comprehensible. Isabella's brow creased and she leaned down closer to him. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"He's asking about Bossuet," Bridget put in helpfully, standing directly outside the cell and looking in on them. She could easily tell what he was saying, for she had five little brothers and sisters, and small children have a tendency to mumble their words. Bridget had experience.

Isabella jumped, and her head shot up to her friend. "Oh, wow. Bridget, I didn't realize you were there." She tactfully ignored her friend's murmur of something that sounded suspiciously like "What else is new," and instead chose to focus on her new pet. "I think Jehan's not feeling too well. What should we do?"

Bridget shrugged her shoulders. "I could get Elsa. Bella, he hit his head hard. Do you think-"

"He's fine. I'm sure he is," Isabella interrupted hastily. "But get Elsa."

Bridget nodded, hurrying away, and Isabella looked back down at Jehan. "Yes, you're right, Bossuet is here. He's been looking for you." She spoke softly, her voice soothing Jehan out of any worry he might have felt. A sudden tiredness came upon him, and his eyelids began drooping again. The young lady began humming her little song again, and Jehan felt himself slipping slowly in to the depths of unconciousness. He imagined he was walking in the Luxembourg on a very warm day. The sun shone brightly, coaxing the flowers to open their petals to a new day, and it was so peaceful that Jehan would have been content to stay there for eternity. He was startled out of his half-dream by Mademoiselle Isabella's concerned voice echoing through his mind once more. He couldn't make out her words, but she shook his shoulders, and he felt himself being tugged out of the gardens and back into the cold and the dizziness and the confusion. Her voice was buzzing again, but the buzzing had a slightly pleading tone to it, as if the speaker was genuinely afraid.

Suddenly there was another voice and colder hands touching his face, and through slitted eyelids Jehan could make out another woman who called his name and as the Mademoiselle shook him some more and his eyes opened wider, he found that the newcomer seemed to resemble Combeferre's attacker.

"M'sieur Prouvaire?" She asked, speaking louder than Jehan felt necessary. He preferred the other woman- she was gentle and had a soft voice.

"Elsa, something's wrong. He's not speaking correctly and his neck is sort of stiff. He says he has a headache."

"A headache, hmm?" Said 'Elsa', and at this point Jehan's mind began to wander and he allowed his eyes to fall shut again. Elsa immediately turned her attention back to him, squeezing his hand. "No, please, stay with us, alright?"

"Jehan, wake up, please. Just answer her questions; she'll make sure you're okay." The soft voiced woman whispered in to his ear- a bit closer than she needed to be, but that thought didn't occur to Jehan at the time. Nevertheless, he opened his eyes as well as he could, and tried to shake himself into consciousness. The room was bright and he wished that he would be allowed to close his eyes once more.

The woman, Elsa, noticed his squinting at the light and immediately became concerned. "So you have a headache? Do I sound a bit too loud right now, or is the room too bright?"

Jehan mumbled his concurrence. Elsa nodded, exchanging a worried look with Isabella before continuing. "Can you tell me your name?"

Jehan was confused. Why wouldn't they know his name? Surely the other woman- he had met her before, he just couldn't seem to remember now- knew his name. He had to think a moment before answering. "Jean."

"Okay, do you know my name? Or her name?" At this, the questioner pointed to the other woman.

"You're Elsa," Jehan murmured, not realizing how slurred his words were as he spoke them. He frowned, unsure how to answer the other question. He knew her name… "I- don't know." He finally answered. He did not see the crestfallen look on Bella's face, or how her lip trembled ever so slightly before she bit down on it.

"Do you know what day it is?"

He had to think a moment. "The twenty seventh of April, eighteen... thirty two."

Elsa nodded. Close enough, right? But she was concerned. It sounded as if her friend's Barricade Boy had a pretty bad concussion. She wasn't quite sure what to do, so she did a few more tests. He said that he felt nauseous, and Elsa worried he might throw up later. She had him follow her finger- his eyes went a bit cross eyed. At this point, she just shook her head and whispered to Isabella that it seemed he had a concussion. Isabella was concerned, and wanted to know what she could do. Elsa simply told her to let him sleep, and to wake him up every fifteen minutes to make sure he was alright. Isabella nodded, and resumed her stroking and singing patiently.

All Elsa knew for sure was that Isabella wouldn't kill Ally, but if she tried any moves like this on Combeferre then Elsa wouldn't hesitate.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Ally! Get your sorry a-"

"Language!" Called Avi from the computer (really quite the one to talk). She, Maddy, Marleni and Bridget had been amusing themselves by watching the proceedings on the security camera. Ally was still moping, and visibly froze up when Elsa called her.

"What is it?" Ally called in response, jumping off the bed and making her way to the door. Elsa refused to answer until they were both in the "kitchen".

"You gave that poor man a concussion you-" Elsa proceeded to use several words that we shall not detail here, "Idiot! How could you?"

"I-I was angry and-"

"Angry because Isabella got her guy and you didn't! Ally, you are seventeen, show some emotional maturity!"

"Hey," cried Ally, clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. "I am very emotionally mature! In fact, I'm the only-" She stopped herself just in time, before she could say something she would regret. But Elsa knew her too well.

"The only mature one here? Really? Well, tell that to poor Isabella, who's in there sitting with her true love, whom I think is currently vomiting because you literally _rattled his brain! _My god, Ally, you act so high and mighty and then you go and do this. You know you were wrong, too, you just have too much pride."

Ally gasped in fury, rage setting her tongue off once more. "_My_ pride? Okay, let's talk about pride, '_**Miss Smarter Than Thou**_'- you act like you're the smartest person in the room, and then go out and lose it all over a guy. Great job Elsa, you almost got punched out by Combeferre. He does keep a knife in his boot, you do realize that? You weren't very smart there, huh? In fact, you were a total _idiot_!" She spat these last venomous words, knowing how much they would sting.

Elsa colored, and began spluttering. "You're wrong, that isn't true, I-"

"Oh, it is true. You know it, don't you?"

"I- I-" For a moment, Elsa's face contorted, and Ally was momentarily afraid. Maybe she had gone too far.

"Pride, hmm?" Elsa said at last, before making her way to the door with as much dignity as she could manage. "Fine." She turned back around as she passed through the door. "Apologize to Bella!"

She opened the door to find Avielle darting away. Not paying any attention, she grabbed a book from Ally's bookcase and curled up in the corner of her bunk. She pretended to read, but everyone could tell she was crying. Ally, who had been watching this from the door, now hung her head.

She knew that Elsa was right. She had no point in arguing. Elsa did have a tendency to put herself over others and not notice those around her, but she was nowhere as bad as Ally. Ally did have a problem with pride- she wanted everything her way, and maybe she was really bad. Slowly, Ally turned and made her way purposefully to the prison cell in which a pale man lay, his head in the lap of an even paler woman. She coughed slightly, and the woman looked up.

"Oh- hello, Ally," Greeted Isabella softly, taking care not to disturb the sleeping Jehan.

"Hi, Bella," Ally offered a small smile. "Can I come in?"

Isabella hesitated slightly before nodding. "Oh, sure, yeah."

Ally opened the cell door and cautiously sat down next to her friend on the bed. Isabella stroked Jehan's head lovingly. She held an icepack that she must have plotholed in to his head, and there was a bucket on the ground.

"He said he felt like he might throw up," She murmured. "He doesn't remember me, or what happened. I don't know why." She looked so sad that Ally just felt even worse, and wished that everyone would stop making her feel so bad today. "Elsa said he'll be alright, though," Isabella added hastily, "So that's good, then."

Ally sighed. "Bella, god, I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't mean to nearly kill him. I- I'm not good at apologies. I swear, I'll- I'll make it up to you. I'll help you two hook up, I'll force Enjolras to sing at your wedding-"

"Ally," Bella stopped her, putting her hand over her friends. "It's okay, Ally. It's fine. You shouldn't blame yourself, it's really hard to control yourself when you're upset, and… It's alright. Don't worry, everything's fine."

Ally frowned. "I… decked your boyfriend."

"Yes, you decked my boyfriend. But I'm not mad. I know you were just upset and stuff. I figured that out. You were angry that I got my guy and you had to force Enjolras to kiss you." Isabella smiled sweetly and Ally realized that everything that she said was true. "So you see, Al? You were upset because true love came so easy to me and not to you. We're friends, Ally. Jehan will love me for me and Enjolras will love you for you. It's only a matter of time. I'm not mad at you, and I only hope that you aren't mad at me."

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"You just told me why."

"You're really smart, Bella."

"You're even smarter, because you read the Brick before me, and if anyone is going to get accepted into Harvard, it's you."

Ally smirked. She hadn't know that anyone else knew that Harvard was considering offering her a scholarship. "Who else knows?"

"Me, Avi and Elsa. No one else."

Just then, Jehan moaned in his sleep and Bella jumped, shaking him a bit and adjusting the icepack. Ally stood quickly. "I'll go now. Thanks, Bella."

"No problem, Ally," Isabella replied absentmindedly before glancing up suddenly. "Oh, I think that another apology and a chocolate bar would smooth things over with Elsa nicely."

Ally laughed aloud at that- mainly because she was exactly right. "True, I'll get on that right now." She opened the cell door before Isabella spoke one last time.

"Uh, Ally?" Ally looked back, to see Isabella looking at her with unusually wide eyes. "Since you, um, sort of did deck my Barricade Boy, do you think I could have something in return? A favor, per say?"

Ally frowned. "What exactly do you need?"

"Uhh… Well, I know that most of the girls really can't wait to get their hands on Jehan- I don't even want to know what they did to Bossuet- but… I really, um, don't…. want them to. I don't want them to touch him. D'you think that- that he could be all mine, no one else's?"

Ally smiled at her friends shy way of asking. She didn't blame Bella for not wanting any of the other girls to take a crack at Prouvaire- he was sick and scared and Bella felt responsible, and Ally owed them that much. "Sure, Bella. No problem."

Isabella smiled, content, and returned to her little singing as Ally left the room.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"That went well," Marleni whispered to Avi from the computer, where they watched the exchange. Avielle was doing a lot of snooping today, and Marleni had decided to join her.

"Sure did. Poor Bella- hello, Jehan's throwing up again, poor _petit bebe_."

"He'll be okay?"

"No doubt," replied Avi. "The question is, will Bella- she looks traumatized."

"Poor kid," Murmured Marleni, shaking her head. The two were interrupted by a muffled sobbing sound from Elsa. At this point Avi decided to do something, standing up and walking over to where Elsa still sat curled up on her bed. "Hey, Elsa," She whispered, crawling next to her. "You okay?"

"Fine," mumbled Elsa, burying her face deeper in the book.

"Your book looks interesting. Good reading?" Avielle asked, referring to Ally's copy of _Celebrity Sex Scandals_ that Elsa was currently holding upside down.

"Fine."

"Never knew you were so interested in that sort of thing." It was then that Elsa finally looked up to examine what she held. With a gasp, she flung it across the room. Avielle snorted. "Good, you're still normal." When Elsa didn't reply, not even with another 'fine', Avi sighed. "Look, Elsa. What Ally said, she didn't mean," She didn't bother to explain how exactly she knew what was said."Sure it wasn't that smart of you, but you're always smart the rest of the time. You know that."

"Yeah."

Sighing, Avielle plotholed in a chocolate bar and handed it to Elsa. "That better?"

Elsa looked down at the bar and then to her friend. She now wore a small smile. _Ahh, success,_ thought Avi with a grin. "See? I've known you for too long. You can't stay mad with me."

Elsa looked over at her. "Maybe Ally's right. Maybe I am an idiot. What was wrong with me? I just don't lose control like that, she trailed off before continuing in a soft voice. "He might not love me now." Avi shook her head.

"Elsa, were all insane in some ways, the three of us. We're best friends, and totally crazy. Me, I'm me- I was born this way, no helping it. Ally's a super-mega-control-freak. You, on the other hand, happen to be a diehard fangirl. You think no one notices how insane you go over even the slightest mention of Combeferre's name? Look, you're grinning right now. What you did wasn't bad. Punching Lena was bad, but that's a whole other story. Nothing is wrong with you, Elsa. If there is, if you're bad, then I'm screwed. I'm the wild, fun one- you're the smart, responsible one, and Ally is the clever leader who always knows what to do. Even Combeferre has breakdowns sometimes. You two are perfect for each other. He'll love you."

Elsa grinned at her friends words. "Notice any parallels here? I'm just like Combeferre, you're a lot like Courfeyrac, and Ally is practically Femjolras."

Avielle smirked. "No, really? I like to think of myself as a mix between Courf and R. Minus the alcoholism and chronic sex thing."

"Well..."

"Shut up!" Avi gasped and the two girls began giggling loudly.

"You forgot pyromania," added Elsa with a smirk just as Ally returned to the room.

"Ally!" Cried Avi, jumping up and running over to her friend, dragging her to the bed and practically forcing her to sit with them. "Good news!"

"What is it?" Ally gasped, stunned from being pushed on the bed.

"I'm not mad anymore," Elsa smiled, and Ally's expression was one of total wonder. "Are.. You mad at me, then?"

"Me? No! I'm just glad the fighting is over."

At this point Maddy, who had a tendency to interrupt good moments, called over to the three. "Hey, have you guys seen Noelle? She vanished a few hours ago."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Noelle, who had been mysteriously absent for nearly two chapters, ad actually been off doing things herself. She had at first gone looking for the Eiffel Tower, but apparently that wouldn't be built until 1889, so she would have to wait another fifty years or so. Disappointed, she had gone wandering around, looking in shops, walking along the Seine and tripping over a gaggle of street children who were playing something like tag with a police officer.

She hung around for awhile, choosing finally to plothole to the Cafe Musain. She marveled at it for a while, smiling at how surreal it looked, almost as if it were falling down on one side. The entire setting was just so epic that she almost felt as if she was actually in the movie... And in a way, she was.

After that she just wandered, and wandered around Paris. Wandering around Paris, as you may figure, is never dull. The levels of poverty Noelle observed stunned her, and when no one was looking she plotholed in a little leather bag of francs and handed it to a passing gamine.

Eventually she found herself in the middle of a somewhat deserted street. Looking around, she found it nothing special and decided to move on- until she was nearly mowed down by a frantic man carrying a child. "Ah, god!" She cried as she fell to the ground, landing on her back. She lay there in the dirty street for a moment, a bit stunned. The man hastily apologized, but could hardly help her up, hands full as they were of child. Not that it mattered, for Noelle easily helped herself and began running after the man, who was rushing away in a sort of panic.

"Sir- sir- hold on! Are you alright?" She asked, jogging alongside him. It was then that she got a good look at the man and the boy-

_Oh my supreme being, it's Gavroche and Courfeyrac._

"Ohmigodhi!" She gasped. "You're Courfeyrac, right? Wow, you have no idea how incredible it is to finally meet- what happened to him? Oh my god, Gavroche? Is he alright?"_  
_

"Not sure," Courfeyrac panted. "Have we met before?"

"Uhh, no... I'm a friend of one of your grisettes. She is a part of your collection. I've heard all about you. What happened here?"

"Not sure," he replied, adjusting Gavroche so that he was slung over his shoulder. "He was attacked, I believe."

"Attacked?" Noelle gasped, running now to keep up. "By whom?"

"A strange group of women. I'm not sure who they are."

"Doesn't he need a doctor?"

"That's where I'm taking him. My friend studies medicine."

At this point they stopped in front of a tall brick building that looked a bit run down. The door was really the only colorful thing about the place, a striking mahogany. The rest of the building seemed to be a pale gray.

"May I join you? I might be able to help," said Noelle as Courfeyrac rapped on the door sharply. He replied his assent, not really paying her much mind in his desperation. Noelle realized that the student and the boy must be close.

The landlady allowed them both up to Combeferre's apartment without any questions, luckily. As soon as they reached the door, Courfeyrac began banging on it. "Combeferre! Combeferre, it's me, open up!" The door swung open to reveal Combeferre, dressed for the day, complete with new glasses. He looked sort of hot, Noelle reflected, and it was lucky that Elsa wasn't there. Should her friend have been there, Combeferre probably would have found himself on the ground with a rabid girl making out with his neck.

"My god, what on earth is this? Courfeyrac?" Combeferre gasped, blinking at the in surprise.

"Combeferre," Courfeyrac said, smiling tightly. "Have you a moment?"

"There's a class-" He began, but Courfeyrac pushed his way inside.

"Classes can wait," said he, setting the limp child on Combeferre's couch. Noelle followed him quietly. The men seemed to have very much forgotten that she was there. "He was attacked," continued Courfeyrac. "Attacked by whom I believe to be the very same woman who attacked you, Bossuet and Joly."

Combeferre knelt by the child's side, checking his breathing and taking his pulse. "He's breathing, seems to be only unconcious..." He turned to Courfeyrac, uncertainty and (dare I say it?) even fear written on his face. "My god, what do they want with us?"

**_AN: So Noelle now knows where Combeferre lives. This can only lead to good things, folks. Who has a crowbar? Oh, and Jehan will be fine, don't worry. I don't know, but Isabella sort of reminds me a bit of Jane from Pride and Prejudice/Lizzie Bennet Diaries._**


	8. In which Courf finally gets some action

"Combeferre," began Courfeyrac cautiously, fully expecting the suggestion to be turned down. "Perhaps it is time we alert the gendarmes."

To Courfeyrac's surprise, the other man seemed to consider the idea. The Amis were generally against the police, who had the tendency to arrest them quite often, but now that the situation was becoming serious it might just be a plausible option. "Perhaps you're right," replied Combeferre slowly, adjusting Gavroche to make him more comfortable on the couch. "It might just be our only option, seeing as Bossuet is actually missing. We don't know who exactly we are dealing with, and they very well could be quite dangerous."

"Oh, don't do that!" Noelle gasped in alarm, speaking for the first time. Both men jumped- they had obviously forgotten that she was there. "Don't call the gendarmerie, I mean. For all you know, these attackers might actually be working for the police. And the police would jump at the chance to arrest you- who's to say they would do anything for you, hmm?"

Combeferre stood up and glanced at Courfeyrac, who looked as surprised as he felt. "Ah, mademoiselle," he nodded, and Noelle returned a wide, somewhat awkward smile. What else could she do? It was _Combeferre_. "I'm sorry, we did not realize that you were- ah, where did you come from?"

"Why, I came in with Monsieur Courfeyrac," The woman giggles, blushing and looking down. "I met him on the street and was concerned for the boy." The response was innocent enough, but Combeferre still felt uneasy. He could have sworn that he had seen her somewhere before. He turned to his friend for confirmation, and Courfeyrac nodded.

"Yes, that is correct. Combeferre, this is Mademoiselle- ah, I do not believe I caught your name."

"Noelle Piatek," she replied, restraining herself from squealing. Courfeyrac had just asked her name. _Ohhhhh god._

"Well, Mademoiselle Piatek, you raise some valid points. Rene Combeferre." He, being a gentlemen and showing proper etiquette, bowed and Noelle felt like fainting.

At this introduction, Noelle did something very stupid indeed. She nodded at him politely with a gleeful look on her face and said "Oh, yes. I've been wanting to formally meet you for some time, both of you. I have heard much about you."

This, or course, struck both men as suspicious. "From your friend, I suppose?" Courfeyrac asked, wondering exactly who this girl was.

"Mmm-hmm," Noelle replied, walking over to Gavroche and poking him. "He's sleeping."

"Yes, it appears so," Combeferre replied, deciding to humor her. "I have some smelling salts in the other room, on the table. Could you go retrieve them, please?"

Noelle, just psyched that Combeferre was asking her for favors now, nodded and went out of the room cheerfully. In her mind, she had achieved victory- she was in Combeferre's house and knew that they were planning to call the police. She didn't know, however, that they were on to her.

As soon as she had left the room, Courfeyrac shut the door behind her so she wouldn't hear them. "I don't know her, honestly. I have never met her before, she just followed me here. Said we have a common acquaintance."

"I could swear I've seen her before- or heard her at least. Her voice sounds familiar," replied Combeferre. "She seemed awfully eager to stop us from going to the authorities."

"Do you think that she's involved with the women?"

"Well, it depends. There is the woman that attacked me, and the woman that was punched trying to stop her. Neither of them looked or sounded like her."

"There was Prouvaire's friend and her two accomplices, who took them away," Courfeyrac replied. "And the ones that Joly said kidnapped Bossuet."

"What?!" Combeferre had not been present during the kidnapping and had absolutely no knowledge of the events late last night. Courfeyrac, realizing with surprise that he wasn't aware and feeling rather foolish, hurriedly explained what had happened up to the point of their departure before continuing.

"So there was the one I had a stick fight with and the one who Enjolras-"

"Enjolras kissed a woman?" Combeferre asked, more surprised by this than anything else. Regaining his thoughts, he continued, "And Bossuet is missing?"

"So Joly says. There was no sign of him when we arrived, aside from a bit of blood on the ground, but one of the women- the Enjolras one- had a rather nasty gash in her head. We aren't sure if he's missing, but then Joly was pursued by a pale woman and I dueled with a dark skinned one and then one said that Joly ran away- we haven't seen Joly since- and they all left."

"Did any of them look like this Noelle? My attacker- from what I saw of her, at least- had very dark hair and this woman's hair is brown. The other woman was dark skinned- perhaps the woman you fought?"

"It sounds plausible. Joly's pursuer had brown hair as well, but was almost stunningly pale, unlike Mademoiselle Piatek here. The ones that attacked Gavroche- there was your attacker, and then there was one with wild brown curls."

"Ah, that would be Avielle, then," A voice said from the doorway, and the two men found Mademoiselle Piatek leaning against the doorframe with an unmoved expression. "Your attacker, Monsieur Combeferre, was Elsa, Maddy and I were there last night, and I'm pretty sure Marleni, the dark skinned one, mentioned that Bridget went after Joly, and Ally is the Enjolrapist, so... Oh, and Jehan's friend is Isabella. Does that cover everyone?" She frowned, counting on her fingers.

"You," gasped Courfeyrac. "So, you are-"

"Well, yes. I thought you already figured that part out." Noelle replied, nonchalantly handing Combeferre the smelling salts that she had, in fact, found.

"Who are you then?" Combeferre demanded sternly, not understanding why she was grinning while he was giving her his most severe look.

"I already told you, I'm Noelle Piatek." She knew, of course, that she should be bolting but she didn't want to leave this house, where _Combeferre_ lived.

"I mean, who are you and your friends? Why are you doing this to us?"

"Oh, well, then you should have been clearer. I can't be expected to know everything." She settled herself in a chair and regarded the two men calmly. "We're called the Amigas. We..." She stopped suddenly, as if she had just realized something. "I shouldn't be saying anything, really. It's better that you don't know. We aren't going to hurt you, if that's what you're thinking. We have Bossuet, yes, but he's fine."

"What do you mean?" Combeferre demanded.

"I can't say! Look, you can get your answers tonight, at the Musain- two of the Amis will meet with two of us. Only, you can't send your leader, Enjolras. Send two others, and we'll do the same. Is that a deal?"

"No!" cried Courfeyrac, getting angrier by the second. "You will answer our questions right now. Why are you doing this?"

"I- we aren't planning to hurt you! You'll be fine!"

"Not planning on hurting us?" Courfeyrac scoffed. "What about Gavroche? Do you think he looks 'fine' right now? What did you even do to him, and _why_ are you coming after us?"

"Okay, one question at a time," Noelle was getting flustered now, and it showed. "Anyway, I had nothing to do with the Gavroche thing, ask Avi or Elsa. They were the ones who attacked him, not me. No, I don't think he looks fine, he looks bad, actually, and you might want to do something about that. Since I wasn't there, I don't know what happened but I would presume he was knocked out somehow. I know as much as you do."

"And?" Courfeyrac asked, standing directly in front of the chair where Noelle sat. This did not please Noelle at all, because the questioning was getting intense and she might need to bolt- not that she probably wouldn't trip over her own feet on her way out the door, but still.

"And... what?" Noelle asked innocently.

"You didn't answer my last question," he replied, leaning down close to her so that his eyes were level with hers. She gulped. Courfeyrac was _intense. _"Why are you coming after us?" Noelle glanced over his shoulder for Combeferre's help, but he merely stood there with his arms crossed.

"Uhh..." She frowned. How to get out of this... What did she know about Courfeyrac? He was friendly. He was absurdly attractive. He liked clothes. He was huggable, but he could be really serious when he needed to be- like now. He was passionate. He was friends with Marius in the book. He was Fra Fee... And he was sexy.

But she couldn't do... that! That went against all of her morals, and she wasn't even sure that she could say it. She was already awkward enough, but it was so easy to talk to these two- mainly because she still felt as if this were a dream. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her pride and said the words.

"You're... really sexy when you're intense."

This was obviously not the answer that Courfeyrac had expected, and he blinked at her for a moment, but he didn't back away. He didn't move. In fact, he only seemed to grow angrier. _Oh god, _thought Noelle, _it's like poking a sleeping bear with a stick. __**I just woke up that bear.**_

Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to do one thing- run. But she was stuck in the chair which she had so foolishly sat in before. So she did the next thing that she could, imagining as if she were Maddy and she had just spotted Courfeyrac. She forced herself to do exactly what Maddy would do in such a situation.

She reached up, pulled his head to meet hers and kissed him full on the lips.

He was stunned, of course, so he was no longer on his guard and Noelle stood up, still kissing him. Damn, he was a good kisser. Noelle figured that he had a lot of experience. He was actually returning the kiss- something which he would later claim to be completely out of habit, not by choice, but Noelle always liked to fancy that she knew better. She smiled as she kissed him, because he was actually a really, really good kisser. Wow, he was good. This was the best kiss Noelle had ever had- not that she had kissed many other boys.

The kiss was, in fact, so passionate, that she nearly forgot her reason for kissing him in the first place among the fireworks going off in her head. Almost, that is, and still had the presence of mind to spin around and push him down into the chair she had previously been sitting in. At this point she felt herself roughly yanked away by Combeferre, but she managed to shrug him off and took off out the door, feeling like she really was Maddy- confident, daring and totally crazy. She was still Noelle, however, as evidenced by the fact that she tripped at the top of the stairs and slid down the whole flight of stairs on her back. Adrenaline and total exhilaration kept her going straight past the landlady and out the door like a bullet, taking off into the street shrieking and laughing like a maniac.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"By the way, I made Eponine an authoress today," said Avielle nonchalantly.

"_You what?!"_

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Eponine was having what she really could call the best day of her entire life. Mind you, she led a relatively miserable life, but today was definitely, if not the best, one of her better days. Seeing joy light up Azelma's face as Eponine handed her a pretty little cake and a new dress made it all the better.

Eponine was not one to waste time when it came to taking advantage of a good thing. She had quickly created a bunch of beautiful gowns all for her- and some for her mother and 'Zelma, of course. She had made her hair actually beautiful, and had even made herself clean- cleaner than she ever remembered being. She looked at herself in a shop window and it occurred to her that she could almost pass for a proper lady now. And she felt proud.

Men tipped their hats to her and women eyed her with open envy. She was beautiful, and she was exactly what she was always meant to be, what she knew she was always meant to be. And seeing 'Zelma look at her in amazement and gasp and exclaim "Oh, 'Ponine, is it really you?"

It was all wonderful until their parents returned. They were angry, really angry. Where did she get all of these things, why did she currently smell like flowers and _why _was she not sharing?

Eponine was sharing, but that was beside the question. She handed her mother the new dress- it fit, but just barely, Madame Thenardier was rather ox-like- and was about to inform her father that she now had remarkable new powers before realizing what an incredibly bad idea that would be.

"I can't say." She replied repeatedly to her father's insistent questioning.

"Eponine," her mother growled in her deep voice. "Where did you get these things? Here y'are, all dressed up all bourgeoisie, and you've even got something for your sister and I. The question is," At this, the Madame rose up to all of her menacing height which failed to phase Eponine anymore. "Where can we get more?"

Eponine refused to reply. Rage lit up her father's eyes. People did not just _not_ tell him things, especially his own daughters.

"Tell me now, girl!" Demanded her father, shaking Eponine roughly by the shoulders, as if that would get the answer out of her.

"I ain't ever telling you!" Eponine hissed. "It's mine and I'll share but I won't tell, just leave it be!"

Thenardier threw her to the ground, and Azelma scrambled over to her, concerned for her older sister. "Useless slut," Thenardier spat. "You're hiding something, yet you come in her looking like the queen and expect us not to question it?"

"Of course I didn't expect you not to question it, but I'm saying I can't tell!"

"You'll tell, I'll make you tell!"

Now, Thenardier was not an abusive father- not really, in that sense of the word. He was an awful father, to be sure, but he didn't regularly abuse the girls. However, he made a point to always get his way, and if he wanted the truth out of Eponine he was going to get it, no matter what. When it came to money, the Thenardiers were above nothing.

"You won't lay a hand on me," Eponine growled in a low voice. "Nothing you do to me will get me to tell."

Sure enough, nothing Thenardier could do to Eponine would get her to tell, and he knew this. Hereby, he merely threatened what he would do to Azelma.

Eponine told him the truth very quickly, and demonstrated by plotholing a new hat for him.

And that, dear reader, is where the trouble really began.

_**AN: GOD YES. I so enjoyed writing this chapter, because Courf is such a delight and he's such a fun character to play with. I love how he can be all happy but can get really passionate and serious and stuff, that's super cool, and really, who wouldn't want to have a spontaneous make out sesh with him- Okay, fangirling now, I'll stop. But this doesn't mean Noelle/Courf- Courf is just cool like that.  
**_

_**And the Thenardiers. They will be our main antagonists in the fic, although there won't be a lot of conflict, what there is will come from them. I was sort of worried about their characterizations- in my head, Thenardier is greedy and ruthless and does not care much for his children, but doesn't go out of his way to purposely harm them. He is, however, willing to do all that the present situation entails if it involves making more money. Mme T is very much the same, only she cares a bit more for the girls. However, if there is any real abuse, it would be at her hands, such as with Cosette. What do you guys think?**_

_**Also, should I feature Azelma more? Should she follow along with 'Ponine in this?**_

_**More Amis in the next chapter, I promise. **_


	9. In which Bossuet gets lucky for once

For once, the entire bedroom was completely silent.

Isabella was still in Jehan's cell, because he was currently sleeping off a particularly brutal concussion and Bella didn't want him to be alone. Marleni had gotten her headphones and was listening to the entirety of the musical like a good little fangirl. Bridget was at her little table, writing up a petition to leave Jehan to Isabella, and Maddy was lying on top of said table, sort of half asleep- or daydreaming. Either way, no one really cared because no matter what she was doing she wasn't going to get off of the table. Ally was fretting over what it could mean that Eponine was now an Authoress and was chewing Avielle out about it over text message so as to not shatter the calm of the room. Elsa was included in this conversation and was trying to keep the peace, but Ally, who was conveniently ignoring the fact that Elsa had also participated in the creation of Authoress!Eponine, was not having it. The entire room, for once, was completely silent, calm and peaceful.

So literally the entire room jumped when Noelle plotholed in. It wasn't so much her entrance as the fact that she appeared to be having some sort of seizure, rolling around on the floor and screaming at the top of her voice.

Maddy, concerned for her friend's well being, vaulted off of the table and managed to land gracefully in front of her, something that, had she been in her right mind at the time, Noelle would have admired. Maddy's repeated concerned inquiries went unanswered, drowned out by the shrill screams emitting from Noelle's throat.

Once Noelle started pounding her feet on the ground, Maddy decided that something had to be done, quickly. Seeing as reasoning wasn't working ("Noelle, it isn't good to shatter our eardrums like this," often has very little effect on a hysterical person- for future reference) Maddy opted to take her second favorite path- violence.

Have you ever been hit in the head by a ballet flat? It hurts, a lot. Especially when wielded by one with a good amount of experience hitting people with blunt objects.

A swift blow to the head effectively silenced the screaming girl, and a sharp demand for information was issued. Wild eyed, Noelle leaned up and whispered in her friends ear:

"I kissed Courfeyrac."

If it was startling to see one screaming girl literally appear in the room, it was downright scary to see the affliction seemingly spread to another girl. And painful. Two hysterical shrieks can really hurt one's ears. The remaining five sane (relatively speaking) Amigas were very concerned for their friends, but more concerned for their own personal sanities, so no one stepped up to assist.

At last, Ally cautiously approached, only to get nearly taken out by a stray arm in a little victory dance. Ally was the type to get very angry very easily, but one thing that you never want to do is nearly hit her. Especially when you have one group with a sort of cult mindset. Attacking the leader is not advised, ever, unless the idea of being burned at the stake is particularly appealing to you.

Noelle was restrained by Avi and Marleni took the task of holding back Maddy. They were set next to each other at Bridget's table and Ally set to questioning.

"Okay, what is going _on_?"

Noelle, who looked near to bursting from excitement, finally managed to coherently spit out the words she had been trying not to say. _"_I kissed him! _I kissed him!_ _I freaking kissed** COURFEYRAC!"**_

"What?!"

"Oh my god, Elle!" Marleni exclaimed. "What was it like?"

"What?!" Ally repeated again.

"Was he a good kisser?" Bridget grinned, crawling over so that she could examine Noelle's face, almost as if looking for lipstick marks. Of course, Courfeyrac wouldn't be wearing lipstick and neither was Noelle, but this didn't actually occur to Bridget at the time, so Noelle allowed it.

"What?!" spoke up Ally once more.

"You are the luckiest girl ever!" Avielle gushed.

"What?" said Ally once more, a bit half-heartedly.

"Ally," Elsa whispered with a touch of pity in her tone, "Nobody is listening. Noelle's the star now."

And Noelle certainly was the star as she regaled everyone with her encounter with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. She wasn't as great a storyteller as Bridget, but she did the tale justice. Elsa, of course, was interested in Combeferre's house, and how to get there, and was the door locked, and how easy the landlady looked to be able to take down. Noelle answered each question honestly and enthusiastically. Her tale, of course, elicited jealousy from numerous girls and everyone was rightly fascinated up to the end. Elsa and Ally, it seemed, were the only ones that picked up on the deal that she had offered.

"That's all great," said Elsa once Noelle was finished, "_Really_ great," She began giggling at this point and had to stop to compose herself, so Ally went on.

"But what is this deal you made? Do you think they might follow through?"

Noelle shrugged, looking down. This was the part of questioning that she hadn't been looking forward to. "Uhh... I dunno." She proceeded to explain the terms that she had suggested. Unfortunately, these terms were thought up when Noelle's mind was more occupied with how to get away from the angry law student than on actually coming up with a successful plan. As such, the terms were not very well thought out.

"So, they can't send Enjolras? Someone's not gonna be happy," Maddy muttered, and Marleni snorted.

"Unfortunately," pointed out Elsa, "That also means that we can't send Ally."

"Why not?"

All eyes turned to Avielle, who merely shrugged her shoulders. "Why not send Ally? I mean, they don't know us. How would they know that Ally is our president?"

"Well, it wouldn't be that hard to figure out," replied Marleni. "Ally looks almost exactly like how most people imagine fem!Jolras would look- she's not quite as pretty (no offense, Ally) , but she has the same leader aura as Enjy, I guess, so..."

"Leader aura?" Ally grinned, nearly laughing aloud. Marleni smiled.

"Lena has a point," said Noelle. "Ally is kind of obviously our leader."

"So who will we send then?" asked Maddy.

"Wait, we're going? You guys, how do we even know if they'll be there?" Asked Elsa dubiously, coloring in Ally's new Enjolras drawing for her. Her large blue eyes were doubtful as she glanced around the room, her gaze finally resting on Ally. "They might not show."

"We know, but that's a risk that we need to take. We'll go." Ally replied firmly, and the other Amigas nodded in agreement.

"But that still raises the question of who," Avielle pointed out. Secretly, she was hoping that Ally would send her, and tried to communicate this to Ally with her eyes. Ally got the message clearly. However, she had no intention of sending Avielle. Avi was a fangirl extraordinaire, and she would likely freak out at the mere sight of one of her many imagined beaus. Besides that, there was the simple fact that she could not control her tongue. Avielle loved to talk, and would prattle on for hours if you let her, but she didn't always think before she spoke, and she had absolutely no concept of when to shut up. No, Ally deemed it best for Avi to remain here. A slight shake of her head told Avi all that she needed to know, and the brunette's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"First we ought to think of who they'll send," Bridget, who had previously been content with sitting and observing her friends debate, finally spoke up.

"They would need someone good with words- but they would also need a lot of muscle, someone who would be able to defend himself if things go sour," Elsa mused, going into thinking mode. "Feuilly- he could probably handle his own, but I'm not sure if he's a real fighting guy. He's good with his hands, but I don't think he'd have a lot of muscle. Combeferre and Joly we can rule out- they aren't fighters _at all. _Bossuet and Jehan are out of the question- the Eagle of Meaux can not fly whilst locked in a cell, and I'm pretty sure that Prouvaire is still out of it. Grantaire's too drunk, plain and simple, plus Enjolras would never trust him with such an important task. That leaves Bahorel-" Ignoring murmurs of 'who?', "And... Bahorel. Because, let's face it, after Elle's little show there is no way that Courfeyrac is going to be allowed out there."

"So..." murmured Ally. "My darling Enjy will send out Bahorel... Alright. Let's see, who measures up?" She examined each of her soldiers. Avi- no, too brash. Elsa- no muscle. Bridget- the same. Noelle- clutz. Maddy...

"Maddy will go, then," Ally announced, and said dancer turned to her in surprise. "She's not strong, but she's fast and swift. She can move quickly and- didn't you do karate for a few years, Maddy?"

"Yeah," She affirmed, "I went with Avi. I'm a purple belt now, but she's higher than me. I think she's a black belt."

"Second Dan," Avielle put in helpfully, still not giving up on her hopes of going to the meeting.

"Well, anyway," Ally pointedly ignored Avielle, "You can hold your own in a fight. Anyway, who else should we send?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Marleni asked, "We send Elsa."

"Yeah, she's the smartest person in the room. If we're going to send anyone, might as well be her," Noelle agreed.

"Actually," Ally cut in, eager to interrupt before the conversation went any further. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"What?" Elsa asked, obviously bewildered. "Why not, Ally?"

"Well..." Ally frowned, not wanting to offend her best friend. "Elsa, who do you think they'll send next to Bahorel?"

Elsa shrugged her shoulders, setting down her pencil. "Isn't it obvious? They would send Enjolras, him being their leader and arguably the most capable to fill this position. But seeing as they can't send him, they send their second in command, who would be just as good if not better than Enjolras- and that's... Combeferre." She trailed off, realization dawning on her. "Oh."

"Yeah," Ally sighed. "I'm so sorry Elsa, but it's just too risky."

"Well, who else do we send then?"

"I'm not sure."

The room fell silent for a moment. No one liked to hear Ally say that she wasn't sure. It was never good. Finally Elsa spoke again.

"Send Bridget."

Said fangirl looked up in alarm as all eyes turned towards her. She shifted uncomfortably and gave a nervous wave. "Uhh, hi." She turned toward Elsa in surprise. "I- but- why _me?" _

Elsa shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Bridget," Elsa smiled at her friend, "I've known you since the first grade. You're smart, and you're really good when people pay attention to you. You just blend in to the background too much, but that won't happen here because you'll be doing most of the talking. You'll do fine, Bridget."

Bridget blushed, the pale pink contrasting shockingly with her porcelain skin. She and Elsa had been friends for a long time, but she had always felt that their friendship was overshadowed by Elsa's relationship with Ally and Avielle. She felt proud that Elsa was finally taking some notice of her. And to be called smart by Elsa! Such a compliment, for the genius tended to look down upon others in the belief that they were not her intellectual equals.

"I- I guess I could go. I'm good at talking," Bridget said softly, looking to Ally for approval. Ally simply nodded, but Avielle's beaming grin told her all that she needed to know.

It was her moment to shine.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Bella!" Elsa called into the cell where Isabella now lay on the cot, Jehan stretched out next to her. Elsa was embarrassed for a moment, thinking them to both be asleep, but Isabella poked her head up at her voice.

"Oh, hey Elsa. Jehan threw up about half an hour ago, but he's stopped. Is that good?" She asked, picking her flower headband up from where she had discarded it on the floor and setting it back into place on her head.

"Yeah, that's fine. He's been asleep for about two hours. He should be waking up soon. You wanna get out of there? We're going to meet some Amis."

Isabella's eyes lit up at the prospect, and she grinned, nearly standing before seeming to resolve to stick to her spot. "No, I can't. I'm too worried about Jehan. I think he's lonely. Maybe he misses his friends. I think he said he had a cat."

Elsa shrugged. "If he wants someone, you can just call one of us and we'll plothole Bossuet in here. But not now, Marleni let herself in to his cell again."

"He's having the luckiest day of his life."

"Yeah, I guess- I mean, if you can call being sexually molested by teenage fangirls luck, then sure. Don't worry," She added in a softer tone. "No one's coming after Jehan."

Isabella grinned. "Thanks, Elsa."

"No problem, kid." Elsa called over her shoulder, exiting in to the kitchen.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

About half an hour later, Jehan stirred again. Isabella, worried that he was going to be sick again and otherwise not wanting to be caught in an awkward position with him, jumped to her feet. Jehan opened his eyes and looked up at her briefly before moaning.

"Hey," Isabella knelt down next to the cot, patting his shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

"What happened?" He mumbled, his words slurred from sleep. He had a terrible headache that was making it a bit hard to think.

"You haven't been feeling that well today. You hit your head pretty hard, m'sieur. D'you remember who I am?"

He peered up at her. "M-mademoiselle Ricci, yes."

"Oh- you can call me Isabella now, at least. I mean, I've helped you while you've been ill all day, I think we've past such formalities." She smiled as his eyes opened wide and he blushed.

"Ah- I'm sorry. I-" He stammered. He found it strangely difficult to form coherent sentences and was immediately even more embarrassed, but Isabella merely shook her head.

"No, no, it's fine. You hit your head, it in't _your_ fault. Don't fret, it's fine."

He took the opportunity to look around the room. It was an awfully strange little room- very small, with three stone walls. An entire wall was nothing but iron bars, and he thought that he could make out a door through the bars. He was lying on a small cot and there was a table in the corner of the room, but aside from that the room was bare. "What is this place?"

"Oh," Isabella frowned, standing and walking towards the table. "This," she proclaimed, "is where I live now. Not in this specific room, of course, but outside. You can stay here, while you recover."

"I have my own-"

"I know but it's better that you stay here," Isabella was thinking rapidly, trying to figure out how to keep him here. Not against his will, of course- she just had to get him to agree to stay here. "There are people here who will help you. You have a concussion, do you know what that is? Well, my friend Elsa is sort of a doctor. She'll take care of you. And I'll be here." She smiled reassuringly as she spoke, feeling bad about lying to him. He began to protest that his friends would miss him, but broke off weakly, headache taking it's toll. His head was swimming, and he had to lay back down again. He nearly fell back against the hard pillow and Isabella was by his side in a moment, warm hands wrapped around his cold ones. "It's alright," She soothed. "Just sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Jehan was confused. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him. He had never had a traumatic brain injury before, and he didn't like feeling like this, so weak and helpless. He could hardly see straight due to the intense pain in his head and he was worried that he would pass out. He wanted to go home. What if something was really wrong? Did anyone know where he was? "Hurts..." He mumbled.

"I know, I know..."

"'M I alright?" He whispered these last words, but Isabella caught them anyway. He felt soft lips plant a shy almost-kiss upon his forehead and would have been shocked at her forwardness had he been able to think properly.

"You're fine... it'll all be better soon- when you wake up." She sighed, leaning against the side of the cot. "I'm awfully sorry- I suppose this must be a bit of an inconvenience for you, hmm? Well... you'll be alright soon and then... you'll be able to go home, I promise."

Her words eventually dulled into a pleasant humming sound, but that was alright because Jehan didn't really want to focus on anything anyway.

"You know, my mother, she used to sing to me when I was little," Isabella murmured softly. He opened his eyes slightly, and she almost looked like an angel. "It was a nice little diddy- I can't remember anything about it now- actually I can hardly remember a thing about her, she died when I was quite young... but it went a bit like a hymn or something." She softly began humming a quiet melody, simple but soothing. Four or five long notes repeated one after the other- Jehan only heard a few seconds of it, which was just as well because that was all that Isabella could remember of the lullaby. She wondered what time it was, but realized that it was only three thirty.

Deciding that Jehan was at peace and vowing to return before she woke, she exited the cell and joined Elsa and Marleni just as they were plotholing to the Musain to observe the meeting in hiding.

_**AN: So next chapter is the big meeting. **_


	10. In which Avielle is a sniper

Madeleine Nguyen was a hopeless case.

Or at least that was what Noelle always said. Noelle and Maddy had known each other ever since seventh grade. Noelle was one year older than Maddy- at the time, she was twelve and Maddy was only eleven. Yet despite being near total opposites, Maddy being the loquacious, graceful, funny one and Noelle being brainy, quiet and clumsy, the two hit it off almost immediately, and grew even closer when their older siblings, Finn and Alexandra, started dating. After Noelle's mom died, the two were inseparable.

No one knew Maddy like Noelle- and no one knew Noelle like Maddy. Despite being completely different in appearance, petite, Asian Maddy and freckled, broad-shouldered Noelle were often mistaken for sisters because they spent so much time together. The two had picked up each other's habits and tics- they both bit their lips when thinking hard and they both picked their nails subconsciously.

But Maddy had problems. She loved the limelight, loved attention. She desperately wanted to prove that she was better than her older sister, who was only seventeen but already had a scholarship to college. At fifteen, Maddy was smart, but nowhere near Xandra smart. Maddy had her talents, but school wasn't one of them. She was also overly confident- to use a metaphor, she didn't always look both ways before crossing the street, because she was sure that cars would just stop for her. This did not indicate self-entitlement- no, it indicated a girl who required a fair deal of looking after to make sure that she didn't accidentally step out in front of a car. And that was the job of Noelle and, to some extent, the other Amigas- keep Maddy out of the way of cars.

Ally knew this. Ally knew all of this. So why, Noelle mused as she sat in the back room of the cafe Musain (before the revered revolutionaries showed up) at a table with Elsa, the both of them looking to be the only ones in the room not drinking something alcoholic, did Ally decide to push Maddy right into the street?

Not that Noelle didn't think Maddy would do alright out there- she was clever and could pack a hard enough punch, but most importantly she was fast and, unlike Bridget, she wouldn't freeze up should something go wrong. But these were the Amis- they weren't dealing with a car, they were dealing with a _bus_.

"Elsa, I'm concerned," She confided over the loud buzz of three drunken patrons. Elsa, who had been watching said drunken patrons and marveling over the level of inebriation that they could reach at only four in the afternoon, turned her head towards Noelle.

"Hmm?"

"I'm concerned about how Bridget and Maddy will do out there."

"How so?"

"Well, Maddy never thinks ahead, and she just talks, just like Avielle. She might just freak out and forget what she's doing and spill the worst stuff, and Bridget... Well, I don't really know. She might just let Maddy take over, and Maddy's an attention hog so she'd be fine with that. Why did Ally send Maddy instead of Avielle?"

Elsa smiled at the younger girl, twisting a strand of dark hair around her finger. "Maddy is sort of... ditzy sometimes, you're right. But Avielle just talks too, and Maddy enjoys shocking people- Avielle really can't help it. She just says things- Maddy at least knows what she's saying. And Bridget... you'd be surprised. She's really good in the spotlight, I doubt that she'll let Maddy steal away all of her glory. Don't worry, Elle."

Noelle smiled sheepishly. "I'm not, it's just..." She trailed off, not wanting to continue, and hastily changed the subject. "Where's everyone else?"

"Avi's hiding in an alley near where Maddy and Bridget are supposed to meet the Amis. If things go bad, Avi is our backup- it was my idea to put her there. Ally didn't agree, but I was persuasive. I left Lena and Bella in the front room of the Musain- I believe they're going to try and watch the show. Ally should join us here after she get's Avi situated, and Bridget and Maddy are, of course, waiting to be sent out to meet the Amis- should they be there."

"How do we know what's going on?"

"Me, Avi, Bridget, Bella and Ally have earpieces- we can listen to what's going on and talk to each other. So, that's why we're back here- it's quiet... sort of."

"Horribly useful."

Elsa shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so."

They fell silent again and sat in peace for some time. Noelle marveled at the sheer amazement of being in the actual Cafe where the Amis met. In about ten minutes, the drunken men left and the two girls were left alone. Noelle wondered if anyone even knew that they were back there. She pulled out her book and read for a long time. Eventually she figured that she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew Elsa was shaking her and saying in an excited tone "They're here! Ally just told me, she's coming back here right now, they're here!"

And they were- once Ally returned she informed them that they had been correct. Bahorel and Combeferre stood outside of the cafe, and Maddy and Bridget had just been given the order to approach them.

It was time, and Noelle's breath hitched in her throat as Elsa echoed the first words that Bridget spoke.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Excuse me? Monsieur?"

Combeferre turned to see two young women. They were about as unimpressive as one could get- dressed as peasants, with long plain skirts and white blouses. The one woman who had spoken was startlingly pale and had large, wide blue eyes that seemed to glimmer in an odd sort of excitement. The other one had dark hair that she allowed to hang loose around her head, not that it really mattered because it only reached her shoulders. Dark bangs nearly blocked her eyes and she wore a small sort of smirk on her face that practically screamed "I know something that you don't,"- mocking, in a way that troubled him deeply.

"Yes?" He replied, politely but cautiously. He noticed Bahorel tense out of the corner of his eye, ready for a fight should these women (if they even were the ones sent to meet them) try to initiate one.

The pale one seemed to sort of freeze up with a gleeful look on her face, so the dark haired one came out bluntly. "Are you here for the meeting?"

Bahorel nodded by his side. "It just so happens we are." The street was relatively deserted, but neither party made a move towards the door to the Cafe, so they just stood in front. The pale one seemed to sharpen up again after her companion jabbed a sharp elbow into her side, and stuck her hand out for the men to shake. They complied of course- common etiquette would be to kiss it, but neither man exactly fancied kissing their potential attackers hands, and it was not as if they were entitled to any kind of courtesy, having _attacked_ them.

"My name is Bridget," said the woman in a manner that was almost shy. She had a soft voice, and was overall quite non-imposing.

"And I'm Maddy," added the other one with a grin. "We know who you are, of course, Monsieurs Combeferre and Bahorel."

Combeferre began to question this remark, but was cut off abruptly by Maddy. "So, here's how this is going to work," She spoke in a cool, clear voice, hard to mishear. "Ten questions, five for you, five for us. We can take turns, or we can not. Once we've each asked our parts, we're done here. No fights, no nothing."

Combeferre, equally composed, raised an eyebrow. "Do you see this as a game, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes," replied Bridget without batting an eye. "That's question one."

"That one didn't count!" Bahorel cut in, and Maddy snorted. Combeferre looked her over. Physically she was very small, and he saw that she was barely a woman at all. She couldn't have been any older than sixteen.

"And why not?" She asked, meeting Bahorel's gaze evenly. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she did the same.

"That was not a real answer, _Mademoiselle_," He said this last word in a sort of mocking tone that made Maddy scrunch up her nose. "If we ask a question, we demand a real answer, and we will grant you the same courtesy." Bahorel had a sharp mind under all that muscle, Combeferre knew, and he was once again glad that he had been the one to come along.

Surprisingly, Bridget conceded simply. "Oh, alright then. That one didn't count," She trained her eyes on Combeferre and he felt a bit uncomfortable under her sharp gaze. "Go on, Combeferre. Your turn." Did she just... wink at him? Combeferre was sure that he must not have seen that correctly.

He began with the most pressing question. "Who are you?"

Bridget and Maddy exchanged a look that neither man could read, and Bridget turned back to them. "We are the Amigas." She spoke with some sort of pride, as if they should know what this meant. "We are fangirls- as in, we are fans of you, the Amis de l'ABC. We are fans of you and that which you stand for. We are fans of your revolution and your new world. We are fans of _you_. We _love_ you."

"Plus, you're all really hot," added Maddy, and from inside the cafe Noelle facepalmed. Seeming to recollect herself, Maddy added, "We named ourselves the Amigas de los Miserables, after you."

The two men looked at each other in confusion. None of this was making sense. Not even Combeferre could make sense of it. "But why-" Bahorel began. He was, however, cut off by Maddy. She shook a bony finger in his face.

"Ah, ah," she scolded in a taunting tone. "Our turn, gorgeous." She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes in frustration. He looked like he wanted to punch something, but that wasn't unusual for Bahorel.

The two girls consulted solemnly in hushed tones for a moment before Bridget finally asked them a bizarre question. With a coy little grin:

"What are your favorite colors- all of the Barrica- uhh, Amis?"

Bahorel blinked dumbly, honestly not sure how to reply. Combeferre frowned. "Why should that be an important question to ask us?"

"Just answer, please," Bridget blushed, looking a bit awkward now.

"I... Enjolras fancies red, I suppose. I can't very well speak for everyone else. I should say that my favorite color is blue." Combeferre could have sworn that as soon as he had finished speaking he faintly heard a high pitched, delighted squeal coming from one of the girls. But he had been watching them the whole time, and they had both been silent. So how... Poor Combeferre never suspected that it came from an overexcited genius over an earpiece from inside the Musain. He did wonder why Bridget was rubbing her right ear and looking pained. Bahorel kindly added some more before the silence could get awkward.

"I like red as well, then. Very daring color, I should say. Striking, leaves a good impression in one's mind."

Maddy nodded with a small grin. "I agree. Nice choice."

Seemingly encouraged, Bahorel went on. "Courfeyrac enjoys green, and I'm almost certain that Prouvaire's favorite color is blue."

Bridget nodded. "Bella should be happy to hear that. She can probably... knit something, I guess." She touched her ear suddenly. "Ah, yes she can knit. Great. We'll just ask Bossuet when we get back."

"On that note," Combeferre began, glad to finally be getting to the urgent questions. He was putting in a great effort to be civil, but these potentially dangerous women were trying even his patience. "What have you done to him? I would assume he's alright if you're to ask him something, in that case. What have you done?"

"He's fine, he's just fine and we will return him at our leisure. We've been taking good care of him... I believe some of my friends took _very_ good care of him."

Maddy smirked. "Ah, yes. I was there. He received some L.I.P. treatment. Didn't hurt him at all. He's perfectly alright." She trailed off then. "Can't say the same for Jehan, though."

"You took-" Combeferre stopped himself, not willing to waste another question. "I- I was not aware that Jehan had joined you."

Bridget sighed, shooting Maddy a pained look. That was the stuff they _weren't _supposed to know. "Yes, but the little boy will tell you all about that when he recovers. He was there. I'm afraid that poor Jehan-" She cut herself off. "I shouldn't say. He's sick though, very sick, poor dear."

Combeferre and Bahorel were both instantly alarmed. Just what had they done to him? "Is he alright?" Bahorel demanded suddenly. Maddy cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Is that a question?"

Bahorel and Combeferre exchanged looks. Combeferre nodded and Bahorel settled his glare on her. _"Yes."_

_"_Alright then," Maddy replied coolly_. "_He got clubbed in the back of the head. An_ accident, _honestly. He passed out, with... what do you call it, Bridge?"

"Mild traumatic brain trauma, otherwise known as a concussion," Bridget put in, taking the reins again. "He's being looked after by our resident, ah, doctor and nurse. Oh, don't laugh like that Ally, and you too, Lena and... Elsa? God, I'm sorry, stop laughing!" She seemed to go off, talking to herself and waving her hands about, totally distracted. Combeferre stared at her, rather perturbed. Bahorel shot Maddy a questioning look.

"Don't ask," Maddy sighed with a slow shake of her head, and all three of them eyed the girl who appeared to be hearing voices in her head. Maddy continued for her. "He was pretty sick, but Isabella says that he woke up and was coherent enough to hold a short conversation, so he's just fine. He'll be alright, and Bossuet's there for him when he wakes. Bella seems to have taken a liking to him. Anyway," she stopped and nudged Bridget, who was glaring at the door to the cafe and smashing her ear against her hand repeatedly.

"Oh, yeah. Anyway..." She seemed to find some sort of temporary relief- Combeferre supposed that the voices must have stopped- and managed to continue. "Our move." She and Maddy exchanged matching grins and Combeferre decided that he did not like where this was headed. "All of the Amis- who are the good kissers?"

Bahorel snorted, slapping his head against his hand against his hand and laughing loudly. He had a deep, booming laugh that made Maddy grin. Combeferre, on the other hand, coughed in surprise. How did one respond to a question such as that? Bahorel clearly knew. "I've been told that I'm quite talented," He replied.

"I'll bet," replied Maddy.

"How about you, monsieur?" Bridget asked with a wicked grin, clearly sensing Combeferre's obvious discomfort and reaching out to try and touch his face. Combeferre drew back in surprise, not wanting the girl to come anywhere near him.

"Yes, Combeferre," Bahorel smirked, "Are you a good kisser?" Combeferre shot him a poisonous glare that only he and Enjolras had managed to perfect.

"Fine, I- I suppose," he stammered, making Bridget and Maddy giggle.

"I would assume so," Maddy laughed. "Care to elaborate at all? I'm sure we would all be very interested in your tales."

"Elsa says 'Shut up and let the boy talk'," Bridget put in. "She also sounds like a dying walrus... I think she's hyperventilating. Ally says 'ENJOLRAS'... That's all Ally says," she turned back to Combeferre. "Continue, please."

"I, uh, have nothing more to add."

"I do!" cried Bahorel eagerly, and Maddy decided that she definitely liked him. He was very tall and muscular, with shaggy brown hair that Maddy thought looked very good on him. He wasn't exactly attractive, not like Ben or some of the other boys at home- his nose was sort of crooked from being broken too many times, and he was rather intimidating (in other words, looked as if he could pick Maddy up with one hand, and he probably could). He would have no trouble breaking down a door, or even unhinging one just by opening it a bit too enthusiastically, but he wasn't a giant. And he was certainly interesting. Yes, Maddy decided, she really liked this Bahorel- whoever he was.

"Go on," she urged.

"I hear Courfeyrac is even better than me- rumours, remember, only rumours- and Jehan apparently isn't bad-" Combeferre barely detected another delighted squee coming from the silent Bridget (maybe she wasn't joking about those voices)- "And Joly is, in Cour- ahem, my source's words, 'a very interesting case'- he didn't elaborate. Enjolras, however, is supposed to be phenomenal."

"Who kissed Enjolras?" Maddy gasped in delight.

"Yes, who kissed Enjolras?" Combeferre added. _Why_ was this the first time he was hearing about this?

"There's a reason the man doesn't drink- Courfeyrac has kissed us all, he's the best person to ask."

"Courfeyrac hasn't kissed me."

"Oh, _yes he has_," Bahorel snorted. Combeferre's eyes widened. **_Why _**_did he have no memory of this?_

"Yeowza..." Maddy squealed, and though Bahorel didn't know what that meant he figured that it was something good. "Don't tell Lena!"

"Lena heard," Bridget spoke through barely supressed laughter, "Anyway, Your move, boys."

Glad to finally be able to say something productive, Combeferre hastily asked:

"Do you have any intention to hurt us?"

"None, whatsoever. We love you, we wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

"But why do you love us?"

"Already answered that one," Bridget replied smoothly. "Think."

Not wanting to relapse into silence, Combeferre went on. "What happened to Gavroche?"

Bridget shrugged, seemed to consult the voices in her head again and then replied, "Avielle and Elsa tried to kidnap him because he's so adorable. It didn't work out. That kid's got skill! He took down Avi, which isn't easy." She grinned at something the voice said (Avielle: "It sure isn't. Frickin' black belt, decked by an eleven year old.") and Maddy interrupted.

"That's five. Our turn. Which Ami is the best in be-"

"Ally says to keep it PG."

"Fine." Maddy ignored Bahorel who, in response to her last question, was mouthing 'Me' and pointing to himself. "Ally's a drag." She seemed to think hard for a moment. "Ooh," She gasped. "I got it. Which one of us would you kiss, if you had the choice?"

There was suddenly a large racket from the cafe Musain and Bridget gasped, clutching her ear in pain. Within seconds, four girls had emerged from the cafe, all giggling and gasping excitedly. "Oh, bonjour!" Called one with frizzy blonde hair, and the girls stopped next to the group. "Ah, you were saying?" She posed awkwardly, hand on one hip and flashing what she must have thought to be a charming smile but really just made her look rather silly.

"Yes," Bridget nodded at the girls. "They count too."

"Now, answer!" demanded one who Combeferre realized with a shock was the same girl, Noelle, who had kissed Courfeyrac earlier. She was restraining a girl with dark hair and large blue eyes who was staring at Combeferre with a sort of dazed, lovelorn expression that made him terribly uncomfortable.

"What do you say, monsieur?" Asked the dark skinned girl, leaning forward against Combeferre's chest in what she might have thought to be a sexy manner. He stammered, unsure of how to answer.

At last, he chose a girl at random. "Ah, you mademoiselle, I suppose." He pointed to the dark haired one, who promptly crumpled to the ground in her friend's arms, seeming to fall into a dead faint. Noelle was obviously very concerned, but the blonde went on, directly addressing Combeferre now.

"For our fourth question- do you think Enjolras would be interested in me?"

"Well, he has very little interest in women, so I should not think so."

At this point, the starry eyed girl leaning against his chest jumped up in delight. "Yes! I knew it! E and R forever!"

At this point another figure strode up behind Combeferre, and Combeferre felt some relief to sense the powerful presence of Enjolras, who had been hiding in the shadows. "_What_ was that?"

Enjolras had absolutely no way of knowing what a tactical error this was. Ally gasped in surprise and started towards him quickly, but Bahorel held out an arm. She ran into it and fell back with a small squeak. As soon as she fell, the other Amis, perceiving this as a sign of attack, burst from where they had been hiding- Grantaire and Feuilly in the Musain and Joly in the shadows with Enjolras.

As expected, there was a fight. Bahorel and Enjolras immediately pushed the girls back, which was no problem because the sudden appearance of the other Amis seemed to successfully distract all but Ally from Enjolras. Bridget immediately set on glomping Joly, who started shouting and hitting her with his cane- to little effect. Marleni and Noelle drove Grantaire into a corner- just because. Marleni hoped that somehow they would manage a spontaneous reenactment of her fanfics in the street, if only Enjolras would just try to take shelter in Grantaire's strong, secure arms, knowing that he would be safe there forevermore-

Oh, and Grantaire was also George Blagden now. Because he could not be ugly, not for a fangirl. This, dear reader, shall be explained the next chapter.

Ally was distracted by Bahorel punching her in the abdomen, giving Enjolras time to escape. Combeferre swiftly pulled a knife out of his boot and began slashing at any fangirl who came within three feet of him- he was a peaceful man by nature, but he did _not_ feel like being raped by psychopaths today. Noelle got nicked in the arm and screamed as blood was drawn. Maddy gasped and lunged for Combeferre's jugular, but Enjolras, fleeing from Ally, got in the way. Hereby, Maddy, demonstrating her previously noted lack of thinking ahead, did what she always did to boys who annoyed her- she kicked Enjolras right where no man wants to be kicked. Ally, nursing a bloody nose from the ground, cried out in dismay.

But Maddy was more dismayed, mainly by the fact that **Enjolras. Didn't. React. **He just pushed her back, not showing any signs of pain or even discomfort. Just passionate **rage.**

"What the _hell?"_

At this point, Enjolras's fist connected with her head and she fell down, only to be pulled up again by Bahorel. Why he pulled her up he didn't know, especially since they both realized who he was helping at the same time. Maddy, not wanting to be decked again, immediately went into a karate stance and delivered a firm roundhouse kick to the face that would have been perfect had the intended target not jumped back before impact. He yanked her leg out from under her and she went down, using her other leg to kick his own legs out from under him. They fought like this for several minutes, throwing wild puches that never seemed to hit their target.

"You fight well," Bahorel panted when he finally managed to pin Maddy down- gently, because she was so small that he would probably crush her should he actually use his weight.

"Same to you," She grinned up at him, not really sore over the brawl but just happy to be a part of the excitement.

Elsa had somehow managed to jump Combeferre and back him into another corner. Combeferre was penned in, but she couldn't get close because of that blasted knife that he kept trying to stab her with. Marleni had managed to obtain scissors and was running around laughing manically and trying to collect strands of the Amis hair. Enjolras had gotten a large pole from the cafe and was beating the fangirls back with it. And two people were mysteriously missing.

Elsa noticed this as Combeferre tore her shirt sleeve with his knife. Avielle was their back up plan, and she was not there.

This was not good, especially not as she looked down and realized that somehow the knife was sticking out of her stomach.

-XXXXXXX-

Avielle and Courfeyrac were on the roof of the cafe Musain.

Now, just reading this sentence surely raises a lot of questions. Where did they meet? Why were they on the roof? What were they doing? How does Courfeyrac move so fast? Why does he get all of the hot fangirls? And why the heck weren't they down helping their friends?

This too shall be explained in the next chapter, for it is quite a story indeed. But really, as of now, all that was important was that Avielle and Courfeyrac were on the roof of the cafe Musain. This was surprisingly peaceful, and it was, overall, a very calm moment.

At least, until an ear-shattering scream pierced the air and the two gasped, realizing at once that they had both forgotten their friends.

At the scene of total chaos below them, Avielle cried out in horror, seeing the fresh blood staining the ground, and Courfeyrac gasped in shock. "Mon dieu!" He exclaimed with surprise. "They've started the revolution without me!"

"Not funny!" Avielle cried, harmlessly striking his chest with the back of her hand. "I'm supposed to be down there! If there is any trouble, I'm supposed to end it! Oh god, what'm I gonna do?"

"Calm down, mademoiselle," Courfeyrac grasped the panicking girl by the shoulders firmly, his calm voice soothing her. "What do you have to do?"

"Stop the fighting," Avi breathed, trembling a bit at the thought of her friends' rage. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her friends, and if they were getting hurt, maybe even killed, because of _her_ carelessness...

"That is my task as well," Courfeyrac nodded, taking care not to glance down at the scene of panic. They couldn't hear it, Avielle having discarded her earpiece and the Musain being a rather tall building where sound does not travel up very easily. "I'll go stop it, and so will you. Your friends will have no need to be angry with you as long as you do your job."

Avielle smiled at his reassuring words, picking up his hat from the ground and placing it back upon his head. "I'd like to see you again, Monsieur. I really would."

Courfeyrac grinned his delightful, charming grin. "Perhaps we shall meet again." He winked at her and exited the roof the way that he had come.

Avielle sighed, thanking whatever deity there was in the world for this night. She proceeded pull a small metal sniper rifle out of her pocket.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Combeferre looked over to see Enjolras at his arm. The two fought off any fangirl who got too close, rod and knife working together in shocking unison. It almost seemed like they might make it out alright.

That was, until Bahorel fell. Having abandoned Maddy, he was trying to keep Marleni away from Joly (oddly enough, no one seemed to come after him- they didn't know who he was, probably) when he suddenly swayed on his feet and fell back. Combeferre immediately spotted a small feathered dart sticking out of the back of his neck. Maddy was next to him quickly as Marleni made her escape. She shook him, trying to keep him awake, but he fell into unconsciousness anyway. It was then that Combeferre realized that this was a different kind of attack.

Feuilly was the next to fall. Just as he called out that someone was shooting from the skies, he was struck in the back. He blinked dumbly for several seconds before falling to his knees. He seemed to be fighting the poison, but his eyes slipped shut and he fell sideways, powerful drugs quickly taking their toll. Grantaire, who stood next to him, began moving immediately, staring up at the sky for the shooter as Joly cried out and nearly fell on top of Bridget after being shot in the shoulder- which was just fine for Bridget. The shooter, however, did not wait to strike down Grantaire, and after missing several times, the drunkard being surprisingly quick, fired a shot to the side of his neck that made him stumble and crash to the pavement.

"It's Avi!" Marleni cried, clutching her stolen locks triumphantly. "We're saved!"

Having been momentarily distracted by the attacks from the sky, Combeferre did not notice the other girls take off. Now he and Enjolras were the only one's in view of the shooter. Enjolras realized this too, and shouted for them to run... but it was too late. As Combeferre turned and began to run he felt something sharp strike him in the back of his neck. He knew immediately that he had been hit.

His vision began blurring, and he felt sounds around him being tuned out, his sharp mind slowly dulling as the poison shot into his bloodstream. He kept running for another three seconds until he felt he would collapse if he took another step. Yet Enjolras had a tight grip on his arm and was pulling him along, refusing to let him stop and rest just for a moment. He was trying so hard to pull him to safety that he didn't falter until he too was shot. He staggered but didn't fall and kept going on. Combeferre, however, collapsed on the pavement, unable to go any farther. He felt cold and worried that he was dying. They had lied; the women had said no attack and now look at where they were. He shivered as he felt his eyes closing, and saw Enjolras fall ahead of him. He couldn't move his limbs now- this was bad, very bad. He _was_ dying, he was sure of it.

He saw a figure standing above him, and heard a voice call something that he couldn't make out. He couldn't see anymore then for his vision was so blurred, yet he refused to close his eyes. "I... not sure... it... Combeferre." It sounded as if he was hearing the words through a tunnel, but he could still just barely make them out. They coaxed him, willing him to fall back in to the soft embrace of darkness that beckoned him. He feared that if he gave in, he would never see the light again. But Combeferre was dizzy... so dizzy. He felt the cold fingers of sleep close his eyelids for him and then he knew no more.

-XXXXXXXX-

"Elsa!" gasped Ally, dragging her friend away from where she stared down at Combeferre's body. "What is this?"

"Uh..." Elsa stammered. Ally had not known exactly what would happen, but she had not been expecting this. "Avi... I sort of asked her to keep a thing... I know she was just supposed to come out punching, but... I gave her a sniper rifle."

Ally made a sort of horrified strangled sound. After a few tries, she finally managed to choke out, "She set my _car_ on _fire_- what made you think that _this_ was a good idea?"

It didn't look like a real sniper gun- like a tiny metal paintball sniper, really. Elsa knew that Avi was a sure shot- she remembered, as a child, playing shooting games with Avi and her three older brothers in their backyard. Even a few weeks ago they had played _Call of Duty: Paintball IV_. It wan't a big deal, and Elsa couldn't understand why AAlly was so worked up over this- but then agin, she was having a hard time thinking straight for some reason. "I'm sorry, okay, but we gotta go- everyone else is gone already, we need to get out of here before the police show up. C'mon Ally."

And so they plotholed, leaving in their wake six unmoving revolutionaries who were found by Courfeyrac.

Why, Courfeyrac wondered, was he always the one who finds the unconscious people?

_** AN: Here is the big meeting. What do you guys think? Also, the real Ally, who Ally in the story was based off of, seems to be having some sort of emotional breakdown. I am concerned. Oh, and this Avi/Courf thing will be a really good story next chapter. Also THEY ARE NOT DEAD, dear god no. I would not kill the Amis. Those are sleeping darts, which I put two hours of research into. So basically, Avielle and Courfeyrac meet and Courf recognizes Avi from Gavroche's attack and pulls her aside because he needs to know what exactly she did because he hasn't woken up yet, and they get friendly and- well, you'll see.**_


	11. In which our heroines are screwed

Now surely the reader is very curious about what exactly Courfeyrac and Avielle were doing on the roof.

This is natural human curiosity, and knowing Courfeyrac, many readers may have already come to their own conclusion. But as much as I wish to tell you that Avielle and Courfeyrac were having a passionate and possibly slightly kinky make out session on the slanting roof of the Musain, I'm afraid that I cannot.

You may recall, dear reader, that Elsa and Ally elected to place Avielle in an alley. This alley was very close to the place where Bridget and Maddy would meet up with two Amis. Anyone in this alley would be able to see exactly what was going on outside of the cafe.

Hereby, it is the perfect place to hide someone.

Now the Amis were well aware of this fact. In sending Combeferre and Bahorel, the rest of them would of course have to be present. If something went wrong then they could not afford to lose anyone else. Hereby, it was Enjolras' job to find a place to hide Feuilly, Joly, Courfeyrac, Grantaire and himself. Hiding Grantaire was easy- he would be most content in the Musain, with ready access to all the spirits that he desired. Positioning Feuilly with him was the next logical step, Feuilly being of the pragmatic sort and quite capable of keeping Grantaire focused and out of trouble. Enjolras would hide in the dark shadows made by the setting sun, so as to be able to listen clearly. That left Courfeyrac and Joly.

Courfeyrac was taller than Joly and physically stronger. Also, Joly apparently had some form of consumption at the moment (according to himself, that is), so Enjolras decided that he ought to keep Joly near him in case he were to pass out or something. Hereby, Joly hid with Enjolras and Courfeyrac stayed in an alley near the Musain.

The exact same alley that a certain Avielle Hansen was sitting in, listening to Elsa quote Shakespeare under her breath- she did this out of habit, it can't be helped- over her little headpiece. Courfeyrac had not expected, upon entering the dim alley, to see a young woman sitting on the dirty ground and leaning against the wall, not seeming to care about the disgusting gunk lining the walls, dirtying her nice looking purple gown.

But what really stuck Courfeyrac was her hair. Long brown curls that, left unpinned, ran down past her shoulders in rather wild curls. He knew that hair, he remembered it. This girl was one of Gavroche's attackers.

"You," he gasped, and the girl's head snapped towards him. Startled, she jumped to her feet.

OoO

"You!" Avielle exclaimed, gazing at the man. There was no question who he was- auburn curls swirling around his head, large, friendly green eyes and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks. It was Courfeyrac.

Jesus christ, how was her hair? Did she remember to brush it today? No, no she hadn't. Ah, dammit. God, the one day she actually gets to meet a real Barricade Boy and her hair looks worse than Eponine's. And what was she wearing? Oh, yeah, she didn't know. Her jeans and t-shirt looked completely different to him.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, she kept her attention on him in case she tried to make a move. She had absolutely no intention of attacking him or even going near him. But the thing was, _he didn't know that. _And if he thought that she would try to kidnap him, he would fight back, and Avielle wasn't picking for a fight right now. Sure, she could fight- very well, actually. But she didn't _want_ to.

He was as tense as she was, but she could tell that he was internally debating something. Courfeyrac, apparently, was one of those people who's thoughts shone clear on their faces. She was like that too, she supposed. She supposed that the more open you are with people, the more your emotions shine through. And they were both very open to others. Finally, one side of the internal debate seemed to win out.

"You- you're a spy!"

Well, that hadn't been what she was expecting. She raised an eyebrow. "_I'm_ a spy?"

"Yes," he exclaimed, "You're here to watch them!"

"Oh," Avielle laughed rather humorlessly, very unusual for her. "And then what are you doing here? Out for a walk?"

Courfeyrac frowned and Avielle felt a little burst of childish pride at her coming out the wiser in this exchange. "Not exactly." She couldn't help but grin at him- it was hard for Avielle to keep from smiling, it was her natural expression. He didn't return the smile, but seemed to be more at ease, seeing as she wasn't tense at all and didn't show any indication of wanting to attack him. "You were one of the ones who attacked Gavroche," he observed.

Avielle nodded her head, unconsciously running a hand through her hair. "Yeah." She didn't really feel the need to say anything else, just bask in the glory of Courf. Plus, he had a nice voice. She wanted to hear him talk.

"We need a word. Now."

"Avi?" Bella's soft voice rang in her ear. "Who are you talking to?" Without answering, Avielle switched the headpiece off. No one could hear her now, and she couldn't hear them.

"Right here?" She asked dubiously. "I would assume that your friends would be able to hear us, where ever they may be."

Courfeyrac considered this. She was right, of course. Enjolras and Joly were just around the corner, and if he or the woman spoke too loudly, Enjolras would be suspicious. And he was already upset with Courfeyrac about the kissing incident, even though that was hardly his fault.

After a moment of Courfeyrac appearing to be in deep contemplation, Avielle was dismayed. She was trying to appear trustworthy- honestly not an easy task for her because she ran off words like a fountain. She just wished that he would be able to trust her enough to actually try and talk with her. Finally, after a long silence, he spoke again.

"Fine," he sighed, racking his brain for a quiet place. He had an idea at last, of a place that he sometimes took his grisettes that he met at the Musain. He had found an easy way to use jutts in the side of the buildings as footholds and climb up the side of the Musain. He had stopped long ago, but it would be horribly convenient right now.

"I know of a place- we would still be able to view the meeting, but we could speak in normal tones without fear of discovery. Does that suit you?"

"Me, monsieur? Why exactly do you wish to take me up to your little hiding place?"

Without answering, Courfeyrac began walking steadily away, out of the alley. One end led behind the Musain, hidden from view of anyone. This was where he was heading. Avielle, complacent, dropped her headpiece on the ground so it wouldn't irk her and trotted after him.

After walking for about a minute, they turned and faced a building that Avi realized was the back of the Musain. "Up here, then." Courfeyrac began climbing up, using the wall to his advantage. It wasn't a difficult climb at all, but it was a high climb. About ten feet up, he looked down to see if she needed help, but Avielle was already climbing up after him. Courfeyrac was impressed. He didn't bring many women up here because they disliked the high climb, but this woman seemed to have no qualms about it.

Avielle wasn't alarmed at all. The Musain was so rough at the back it was relatively simple, and she had scaled her own house dozens of times with her brothers. This was hardly anything different, and she wasn't afraid of heights. She knew that her mother would probably have a fit if she saw her now, about twenty or so feet above the ground, but she didn't care. Dad and her brothers would be cheering.

Finally they reached the roof, and Courfeyrac pulled himself up the side. He reached down and helped Avielle get up and they collapsed on the ground, panting. "Some climb," Avielle gasped out when she could breathe again. Courfeyrac made a sound that Avielle mentally compared to a dying elephant. "You sure seem worse off. I thought you've done this before."

"Not for a year," he replied.

"Oh. Honestly, this wasn't the smartest move. I'm a potentially dangerous psychotic kidnapper who has your friend hostage. And you come up to a dark, secluded spot with me, where no one can hear you scream?"

Courfeyrac froze. Was that a threat? He was pretty sure that that was a threat. Admittedly, this wasn't his smartest idea. In fact, it was quite foolish, and he couldn't really explain why he trusted her enough to do this. He just did. It was difficult to stay angry or suspicious with her, she just came off as very trustworthy. He felt cheerful around this girl, for some strange reason. He was typically always cheerful, but not around kidnappers. Why did he feel so at ease with this woman?

"That wasn't a threat, by the way," She added, using her arms to prop herself into a sitting position and leaning back on them. "Alright, so, we needed to talk."

"What did you do to Gavroche?" Courfeyrac demanded, thoughts returning to the matter at hand. "We tried to wake him using everything- water, smelling salts- but nothing worked. What did you do to him?" He looked angry, but also very concerned, and Avielle's brow creased. He was worried about the boy, and she felt bad. She didn't like to make anyone upset. Why waste time being upset when you could be cheerful?

"They wouldn't. He's basically in a drug induced coma. I don't know exactly what my friend's cousin is _doing _but somehow he has a bottle of chloroform- uhh, sleeping juice? Anyway, he has a bottle in his house so my friend knew exactly what to get. I guess he has to wake up on his own."

"How long will that take, then?"

"Not sure. I don't think it should take more than an hour, but he's so little..."

"It's been a rather long time."

They fell silent for a short moment, neither really sure what to say, until Avielle broke the silence suddenly. "I'm sorry."

She could see that she had surprised him. This was obviously not what he had been expecting. "We shouldn't have tried to kidnap him," she continued. "He was just so adorable... We- we wanted to play with him. Is that so wrong?"

"It is when you have to put people to sleep," he replied.

"Yeah. I see your point there." She stopped again, but after a few second began talking just to fill the silence. "It puts people to sleep, if you breathe it. It's pretty coo- interesting."

Courfeyrac frowned. "That's a bit frightening, don't you agree? That anyone could simply put you to sleep like that?"

"Hey," Avielle exclaimed with another winning smile, "That gamin could fight! My god, I still have a bruise!"

Courfeyrac actually smiled- a small smile, but Avi could see that he, too, had trouble frowning. "Yes, he is very tough, I suppose. That's what comes of living on the street."

Avielle nodded slowly, picking at a scab on her palm. "You're very political, ain't ya'?"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "I suppose."

Avielle smiled widely. "Literary societies, you know. Fascinating stuff." He was obviously surprised at this, but she simply grinned and he didn't say a word.

"You certainly know a lot, don't you?"

"I guess so," she answered, "Or at least I would like to think so. That's why I'm here, I suppose. Because I know a lot. Perhaps this was all meant to be, somehow. But anyway, that's just my attempt at being philosophical."

"You're very bad at it."

Avielle had to laugh at this, and her laugh made Courfeyrac laugh and they both decided that the other had a very nice laugh.

Moving on to a more serious subject, Avielle said: "I'm awfully sorry about my friend Noelle. She just panicked at the time. She's sort of awkward, honestly." She knew that Noelle wouldn't resent her for saying so, because Noelle was rather self-deprecating herself.

"It's alright, I suppose," Courfeyrac replied. " I was merely... surprised."

"And well you should have been." Avielle shrugged.

Realizing that they had totally forgotten a proper introduction, Courfeyrac bowed sort of awkwardly, making Avielle giggle. "Mademoiselle, I have just realized that we have not properly met. My name is Courfeyrac."

"Courfeyrac?" Avielle asked with a raised eyebrow. "Don't I get a first name, monsieur?"

"I prefer to leave that part off."

"Ah," Avielle nodded slowly, holding out her hand, presumably for a handshake. "Avielle, then."

"Do you not have a surname?"

"I prefer to leave that part off."

Courfeyrac grinned and took her hand, kissing it. This surprised Avielle, and her mouth turned up in a tiny smirk. "Impressive manners, monsieur Courfeyrac." They fell silent again, gazing at the rapidly darkening sky. Courfeyrac pondered the situation. he was sitting on a roof with a young lady who had kidnapped his friend, exchanging pleasantries. He had not expected this waking up this morning, but he honestly couldn't say he minded. Frankly, he was charmed by Avielle, and found her interesting.

"So," asked Avielle after a moment of quiet. "What do you do for a living?"

"I am a student of law," replied Courfeyrac, brushing some curls out of his face. He was surprised by Avielle's attempt at small talk, but went along with it, unaware that Avielle already knew this.

"Interesting work?"

"I suppose. You meet many fascinating characters as a lawyer."

"You dress quite well for a student," Avielle observed, noting his fancy cravat and his blue gloves, which he had shoved in his pocket for the climb up the building so as not to ruin them, for Courfeyrac happened to like this pair of gloves very much.

"I suppose I'm rather well off," he replied, not really seeming to want to expand on the subject. Avielle left it at that.

"Very well, then." They fell silent once more and Avielle, feeling that this was happening far too often, began chattering away as she usually did. "When I'm older I plan on being an athlete. I'm not exactly sure what I want to play, but I want to become world renowned for it. I want people to know my name, and I want to get in all the newspapers and inspire people to follow their dreams. That would be incredible."

This surprised Courfeyrac. Female athletes were unheard of! This woman had some strange ambitions, but Courfeyrac wasn't one to protest this sort of thing. He figured that women were equal to men on most, if not all, subjects, and knew that his friends would agree. Besides, he hadn't honestly expected anything normal from Mademoiselle Avielle.

"That's fascinating. Do you think you could actually succeed at such aspirations, being a woman?"

"I see no reason why not. I'm as athletic as any man. I'll have you know that I have three older brothers and one younger one, and I can take them all down in a fight. I'm just as good as anyone else, if not better. Why shouldn't I be a great athlete? I realize that isn't very common around here- women athletes and the like... women anything, actually. But I could do it. I'm strong, and fast, and I'm a good fighter, and wow, I really am talking a lot, aren't I?" Avielle forced herself to stop, knowing that she could, if allowed, go on for hours. She laughed at herself, and Courfeyrac laughed with her.

"Well, if the skill with which you climbed the building was any indication, you would make a fine athlete, mademoiselle."

"Why, thank you monsieur," Avielle beamed.

Courfeyrac ran several questions through his mind, finally deciding on a subject that he liked best. "So, mademoiselle, may I inquire as to your political views?"

Avielle frowned, seeming to ponder the question. "Not sure," she finally replied. "I've never given much thought to it, really. I guess I would be a republican, sort of." She decided not to tell him that this was simply because she liked saying the word _republican _and instead listened to him begin to speak of his opinions of the poor of Paris.

"I think it's horrible," Avi offered, trying to add something to the conversation. "All of those poor people, starving like that. Something should be done! Why, I saw a woman about an hour ago, with a little baby, just weeping. You could see the baby's ribs and everything."

"It is like that all over Paris, mademoiselle- in fact, all over France!"

"It's terrible. Why doesn't someone do something, then?"

"Well, some people are trying," he said pointedly. "But I am sure you know all about that, don't you, mademoiselle?"

"Ahh, yes. The education of children or the elevation of man?" Avielle was just borrowing quotes now, but it made Courfeyrac grin anyway, so she was appeased.

"That is a very nice term. Poetic."

"Thank you, monsieur."

They went on like this for some time, getting on with each other splendidly. Courfeyrac supposed that he could be a bit concerned that he and this kidnapper happened to be getting along so well, but he wasn't, really. She didn't act like any street criminal or kidnapper. In fact, she almost seemed to radiate confidence and cheer, a certain trustworthiness that Courfeyrac couldn't explain, but which put him at ease in her presence and made him feel the same happiness and good humor.

They conversed on a great deal of topics- she told him of sharing a room with her younger brother, who she said was thirteen years of age and who's name Courfeyrac found most unusual- Jesse. In return, Courfeyrac told her about Marius, and she found his dreamy demeanor and ridiculous fashion sense to be a hilarious as he did. Then they got to discussing their favorite literature. Avielle revealed that she enjoyed reading the works of Balzac (which she had not actually read, only heard Elsa mention several times in relating to the period of Les Mis) and that she also enjoyed the works of an English novelist, a woman named Jane Austen. Courfeyrac, in turn, mentioned Hugo and his _Notre-Dame de Paris, _which he had found to be a fascinating read.

They discussed art, and their favorite artists, and even got to discussing their friends- from Bossuet and his luck to Ally and her "obsessive leadership complex" (Avielle's words).

In all of their conversation, they had quite forgotten their actual reason for being up on the roof, and in fact had nearly forgotten that they were on a roof at all.

That is, until a scream shattered the night and everything was suddenly recalled and images flashed rapidly through Avielle's mind of exactly what was happening, horror and blood and pan, her friends getting hurt and dying because she wasn't there to save them.

But somehow it was all so much worse.

The banshee scream had come from Marleni who had somehow been hit in the face, and who now had blood running out of her nose like a fountain. Maddy and Bahorel were kicking and punching, Maddy by some miracle not getting herself killed. Ally was viciously clawing at a man who's face Avielle couldn't see. Elsa was trying to get at Combeferre, but even from so high up she could see a dark stain of crimson slowly staining Elsa's white blouse right where her stomach was. But, perhaps most horrifying of all, Bridget simply lay there in a puddle of what had to have been blood, not moving, arm bent at a gruesome angle. And all that Avi could think was that it was all her fault for leaving them there, for abandoning them.

Beside her, Courfeyrac gasped, and seeing that Avielle was beginning to hyperventilate beside him, tried to say something to calm her because he began somehow to feel her panic, and it cut him like a knife. "Mon dieu, they've started the revolution without me!"

"Not funny!" Avielle cried in panic, swatting his chest with the back of her hand. "I'm supposed to be down there! If there is any trouble, I'm supposed to end it! Oh god, what'm I gonna do?" She wasn't breathing properly and her eyes had taken on a wild look. Courfeyrac grasped her shoulders firmly, forcing her to look at him.

"Calm down, mademoiselle," he urged her gently, trying to make his voice sound as calm as possible. It was working, Avielle slowly beginning to breathe normally once more. "What do you have to do?"

"Stop the fighting," she replied in a whisper, trembling at the thought of how angry Ally and Elsa would be with her, how they might hate her forever, _if they even got out of this alive. _They were getting hurt, killed even, thanks to her stupidity and foolishness...

"That is my task as well," Courfeyrac nodded, taking care not to glance down at the scene of panic in fear that he might not be able to control himself. They couldn't hear the screaming or the sounds of the fight, Avielle having discarded her earpiece and the Musain being a rather tall building where sound does not travel up very easily. "I'll go stop it, and so will you. Your friends will have no need to be angry with you as long as you do your job." Avielle's brown eyes were very, very wide and she looked as if she would be sick, but she forced a smile, the reassuring words helping her to control her fear.

"I'd like to see you again, monsieur," She said softly, picking up his hat and placing it on his head neatly. "I really would."

Courfeyrac made himself grin at her- after all, there was no better way to resolve fear than a smile. "Perhaps we shall meet again." He winked at her and she laughed slightly as he cast himself over the side of the roof and began to climb down.

Avi sighed. What a night... what a day! She wasn't exactly religious, but she thanked whatever god there may be for allowing her to meet Courfeyrac tonight. He was honestly one of the most open, most friendly people she had ever met. She proceeded to pull the small metal sniper rifle out of her pocket. Elsa had provided it for an emergency, and this sure was an emergency. It was her first time using poison darts instead of paint, but she would make do. She was the best shot in her family, and this game was a Hansen family tradition. She forced herself to believe that that was all it was- only a game.

She chose a target at random- one of the largest figures down there- and fired a shot. She missed by about five feet. Forcing her hands to stop shaking, she shot once more, aiming directly for the neck. This time, the dart hit it's mark and she saw Bahorel's hand shoot up to his neck, pulling out a tiny red feathered dart. It didn't matter, though. The poison was already in his system. Already he was unsteady on his feet, and he fell back hard. Maddy limped to his side and tried to wake him, but he was already gone. Avielle felt bad for the girl, because she had to be confused at what was going on.

Another figure caught her attention by shouting. She couldn't make out the words, but he screamed something and she fired. She wasn't sure where she hit, but it looked like a bad shot. She wasn't sure if she had even hit him, and considered firing again, but he suddenly fell to his knees. After several seconds he slumped to the side, out cold. Avielle grinned. Her brothers would be cheering so loud right now.

In the distraction, Joly was running until Avi shot at him, hitting his arm. A bad shot, but it did the job. He cried out in terror and continued running but he fell after a few yards, lying next to Bridget, who still wasn't moving.

Then there was Grantaire, right next to Feuilly. He was running around, knowing that by moving it would be harder to hit him. And, to Avi's chagrin, it certainly was. She wasted a good four or five darts shooting at him and missing. He was looking up and Avi swore that he looked right at her. She was forced to cease fire for a moment. She tried her best to remember exactly what her eighteen year old brother Tom had told her just a few weeks ago.

"Steady your hand, Avi," she muttered to herself, echoing out of memory. "You can't shoot worth crap if your hand's shaking everywhere. Focus, eyes on the target. Fire right in front of him- either he'll move forward and you'll hit him or you'll miss but he'll hesitate and then you'll be able to hit him."

She did just this, steadying her hand and shooting right in front of him. She didn't hit, but he hesitated, giving her just enough time to fire a shot into his neck. Once hit he took off again, but tripped and fell to the ground painfully enough to make Avi wince.

Avielle watched Bella dart in to view from the doorway of the Musain and run over to Bridget, trying to wake her up. She seemed to be crying, and Noelle and Maddy had to come over to help her. The four of them plotholed away quickly. Marleni had said something before, but now leaned against a building, looking lost and clutching her head. Elsa still hadn't noticed her injuries- she and Ally had taken off out of Avi's sight. Only Combeferre and Enjolras remained.

They turned to run, but Avi was too quick. She fired and saw the shot hit Combeferre right in the neck. Enjolras, too, saw the blue feathered dart and grabbed his friend's arm, pulling him away. They were trying to run away from the Musain, but it was in vain as Avielle shot another, hitting Enjolras in the back. She could have grinned- the dart was red. Enjolras would be happy.

He didn't stop though, although Combeferre was down and out. He kept running, movements becoming slow and jagged until he just collapsed on the ground. The marble lover of liberty had fallen.

Elsa and Ally were back, arguing apparently. Elsa looked as if she had heard someone, and the two girls vanished through a plothole.

The entire attack felt like it had taken an hour, though it really could only have been two minutes. Just as the two fangirls vanished, another figure emerged from behind the Musain. Avielle, startled, nearly shot at him before realizing who is was. Courfeyrac.

She hastily plotholed down behind the building and ran out to him. He was standing over Joly, muttering to himself ("Always me... I'd like to see Enjolras deal with something like this, or Grantaire. But- no! Always me."). She was concerned.

"Courfeyrac?" She asked softly from behind him. He started, not having heard her. When he did see her, however, he seemed afraid.

"You!" He exclaimed. "Did you- did you do this?"

She hung her head guiltily. "Yes." She saw the disappointment, the fear in his face. It made her angry. Who was he to judge her for doing what she did? They weren't dead, she hadn't hurt them. What had they done to her friends? Was Bridget even alive? How dare he, this man who had absolutely no idea the extent of her group's injuries, judge her? "I had to!" She exclaimed. "Somehow, Elsa got stabbed, and... Bridget wasn't moving!"

"What have you done?" He asked softly.

"I just put them to sleep. It only lasts about ten minutes. They'll wake up any minute now. I didn't hurt them... I had too! I'm sorry but I had too."

Courfeyrac frowned, and his face still betrayed fear. Avielle was horrified of what he thought of her. "I have come to realize, mademoiselle," he spoke slowly, deliberately, "That I do not know you at all. I have absolutely no idea what you are capable of."

"What?" Avielle cried. She seriously did not have the time or patience for this. "You don't know me, hmm? Who the hell have you been talking to for the past hour and a half? Victor Hugo?" He frowned, and started to say something, but she cut him off. "No, _I'm_ speaking now! Do you know what your friends did to my friends? If I hadn't done this, someone would have gotten killed. I'm not crazy or dangerous, but I will protect my friends. And I will do absolutely anything to protect those I care about, and I know you can sympathize. So do not look at me that way, _monsieur."_

Courfeyrac listened solemnly through this whole speech and as she spoke, he realized that she was only a frightened woman trying to save her friends from his friends. She wasn't crazy or trying to hurt anyone, and she hadn't. However, this was bad. He was the only one left, and she was still a danger.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Her face softened for a moment. "No, no. I don't want to hurt _anyone. _I just want to go now and see if my friends are alright."

Courfeyrac regarded her once more, but somehow found it in him to offer her a smile. Her hands were shaking and she was ashen faced. She was terrified, and looking around he saw a large puddle of blood. _Her friend's blood._

"You should go," he said. "Find out if your friend is alright."

"What about you?" Avielle asked, once more combing through her curls with her fingers. "Will we ever see each other again?"

Courfeyrac frowned. "Perhaps..." he really would like to talk with her some more. he found the woman fascinating. "Tomorrow. Meet me at ten in the evening, on the roof."

"The evening?" She grinned teasingly. "Bit late, huh monsieur?"

"I like the evening best."

She giggled, and then glanced at the puddle of blood again. "I ought to go..."

He bowed at her with a playful smile. "Tomorrow, mademoiselle?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

As she began to leave, he spoke one last time. "Mademoiselle, I must confess; although I do not really understand why, I find you fascinating."

She smiled widely. "That's quite a compliment, monsieur. I must say, my friends will be ecstatic. Especially Maddy, who I'm pretty sure ships us together."

Courfeyrac frowned, not understanding the meaning of her words. "I am lost."

She grinned cheekily. Some opportunities were just to good to be passed up. "I am found."

And then she was off, nothing more than an echo in his mind as she disappeared behind the corner and out of sight.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

A short interlude, if you will.

In the previous chapter it was observed that Grantaire had somehow transformed into George Blagden. How can this be, you may ask?

As we have previously mentioned, Marleni and Isabella were seated in the front room of the Musain, fully intending to watch the show. Isabella was excitedly chattering to Marleni about the most recent nail polish color she had purchased, and neither girl noticed when two men happened to enter the cafe.

One, positively hideous, sat down at the table next to them and promptly ordered a bottle of wine. The other, who wore a worker's cap, sighed in apparent exasperation and wandered over to where several men were discussing something quite loudly on the other end of the room.

By the time the man next to them had downed at least half a bottle- a feat which he accomplished at an alarmingly quick pace- he had most certainly attracted the attention of the two young ladies seated at the other table.

"_**What **_is that?" Marleni hissed, her nose wrinkling is distaste. Isabella cast a wide eyed look over her shoulder at the man before turning back to her friend.

"That's Grantaire, Lena."

Marleni made some sort of gasping, stammering sort of noises that sounded to Isabella as if she were suffocating. She immediately offered her friend her own water glass and inquired as to her respiration.

"Buh- but- ah- eeeeyyyiiie-"

"Breathe, breathe..."

"Buh... no, he... I... NO!"

"No, what?"

"That is not Grantaire!" Marleni exclaimed indignantly, frowning at the drunkard. Isabella sighed, patting her friend's shoulder in sympathy.

"Yes."

"No!"

"Lena," Isabella frowned, "I'm afraid it is."

"But..." Isabella feared that the girl would return to stammering again, but luckily Marleni managed to choke out a few words. "He's _HIDEOUS!"_

"Yes, he is."

"But why?"

Isabella sighed and plotholed in a copy of the brick under the table, setting the immense book down and flipping to a specific page. She pointed out a passage to her friend. "Here Marleni, see?" And she read aloud:

_"He was inordinately homely: the prettiest boot-stitcher of that day, Irma Boissy, enraged with his homeliness, pronounced sentence on him as follows: "Grantaire is impossible"."_

Marleni, however, was preoccupied with staring at Grantaire. "That is not George Blagden." She whispered, almost dreamily, as if she didn't believe her own eyes.

"No, it isn't."

_"That is not George Blagden," _she repeated in tones of mounting horror.

"No, Lena. It is not George Blagden, I told- wait, what are you doing?" For Marleni had raised her hands off of the table and pointed them at Grantaire, staring at him deeply. "What-"

"George freaking Blagden!" Marleni suddenly hissed, and sure enough, looking over at Grantaire, he was no longer Grantaire at all, but a considerably more aesthetically appealing Georgetaire.

"Hello, what did you d- oh, god. _Oh, god. __**Oh, god."**_

"I did it, Bella, look!"

"I am looking. I am looking and I can't seem to turn away. Marleni, what did you _do_?"

"He's hot now," Marleni crossed her arms defensively. "Don't complain."

Isabella shook her head. She supposed that Marleni was right. There was no point in complaining at all. Hot Grantaire was just fine for her. But, she had to wonder... If Marleni had the power to do this, then what else could she do? What else could they all do?

"You could do that? Gee, Lena, next thing I know you'll go off speaking German somehow!"

"Es war leicht, wirklich," Marleni replied absentmindedly, staring at Grantaire with a dreamy look in her eyes, no doubt imagining raunchy fanfiction scenes in her mind. Isabella's eyed widened and she gasped sharply, leaning back in her chair.

"What was that?"

"Hmm?" Marleni turned toward her.

"What you just said."

"I said that it was easy to do. I have a headache now, but it wasn't hard."

"You didn't say that at all!" Isabella exclaimed. Marleni looked at her strangely.

"Uhh, yeah, I did."

Before she could say anything else, Isabella was disturbed by the sound of a voice over her headpiece. "It's starting!" She hissed, and the two listened in silence for a long while.

And Grantaire never even noticed that he suddenly had a whole different face. Feuilly sure did, though, and nearly had a stroke.

-XXXXXXXXXX-

Avielle plotholed back to the bedroom to find a disturbing scene. Maddy was stretched out on the bed, wincing in pain and holding a bag of ice to her ankle, which Avielle assumed was sprained. She was covered in painful looking bruises. Ally's face was a mess of blood- her nose had been broken and looked even worse than it had before, and she had lost several teeth, and was literally spitting blood into a bucket. Bridget was stretched out on her bed, not moving and looking gray. Marleni had taken Elsa's bed, and was lying back, eyes unfocused. Her nose was bleeding as well, though Avi couldn't tell if it was broken or not. The only ones really able to do anything were Noelle, who had gotten off with a cut to the arm and a missing tooth, Elsa, who was running from person to person and trying to help everyone as best as she could, and Isabella, who had stayed out of the fight altogether.

Isabella was kneeling next to Marleni, snapping her fingers in front of her eyes. "I think she has a concussion!" She announced.

Elsa was feeling Bridget's forehead and grasping her hand. Avi approached her, but what she saw up close nearly made her gasp.

Elsa's face was ashen and she looked ill. She was gritting her teeth, obviously in a great deal of pain, but she looked up and forced a small, weak smile when she saw Avi. "Hi."

"Elsa, you look sick," Avi stated bluntly. Isabella's head turned towards them.

"Are you alright, Elsa?"

"Hmm?" Elsa asked, sounding bewildered and detached. She felt strange, as if she weren't exactly attached to her own body. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine, Bella." As she said this, she turned and Isabella got her first good look at Elsa's white blouse, which was absolutely drenched in blood.

"Elsa, is that yours?!" she gasped in horror. There was so much blood, how had she not seen it before?

"What?" asked Elsa softly, turning back around as if to avoid her gaze. Bella rushed over to her anyway and dragged her to her feet, exposing the full extent of the injury. A small gash rested in the middle of Elsa's stomach, and her entire shirt was soaked in crimson.

"Elsa- oh, geez. You're bleeding!"

"Stop it, Isabella," Elsa hissed as the girl tried to touch her shirt to see the wound. "It's just a little cut, a flesh wound."

"It's everywhere!" Avielle exclaimed, as blood from Elsa's shirt dripped on to the floor. "Elsa, you were stabbed, weren't you?"

"Who?" Marleni asked blearily from her seat, confused at being abandoned, but she was ignored.

"What?" Ally cried in alarm between mouthfuls of blood. "Elsa!"

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "It was an accident- I... it doesn't hurt a lot... I guess the adrenaline..." Her face was ash gray, no color at all. Her lips were as pale as her skin and her eyes were unfocused. Her hair was matted to her head by sweat. Avielle couldn't help but worry that she would faint.

"Elsa, you need to sit down," Avi said quietly so as not to alarm Marleni any further.

"No," she muttered stubbornly. "I'm fine. I have to help..." She tried to walk away from them but was unsteady on her feet.

"Elsa, come on!" Noelle exclaimed, joining them and reaching for her. Elsa shook her off.

"I-" she gasped suddenly, managing to get out a wispy "Oh, god," before nearly passing out. Avielle and Noelle caught her swiftly and dragged her to the nearest bed.

Ally stood from her chair and walked towards them, holding a towel to her face. She was determined to get to her friend. "There's so much blood," she muttered in awe.

"I..." Elsa could hardly speak and seemed really out of it, but she still had echoes of her sharp mind. "It didn't hit anything important, I don't think. I thought-" She trailed of, gasping for air. "I think- I'm going to be sick..."

"Okay, okay, it's alright," Bella whispered, stroking her hair out of her face. Her soothing voice eased Elsa into a sense of calm as Noelle pulled up her shirt just enough to expose the wound.

"Elsa, just breathe," Maddy called from her bed, speaking up for the first time.

"I can't breathe, I'm losing too much blood." She might have been kidding, but Avielle closed her eyes in horror.

"It's gonna be okay," She whispered. "Oh, god..." She had known Elsa since they were toddlers, and they were best friends- Avielle, Elsa and Ally, the three Amigas... Elsa couldn't die, all because of Avielle's negligence.

"I'm scared," Noelle murmured.

"Call 9-1-1!" cried Maddy nervously.

"We can't," Noelle shot back, "It doesn't exist yet!"

"Where's Bella?" Marleni murmured, noticing that Isabella had vanished from the group. She was ignored again.

"This could be bad..." Elsa whispered breathlessly, casting a glance over at Maddy. "How's your ankle?"

"Forget the freakin' ankle," Maddy shrieked, "You're bleeding out!"

"We need to stop the blood!" Noelle cried frantically.

"Stay calm," Ally ordered, taking charge, as usual. "Elsa, how do you feel?"

"I think it's clotting," Elsa gasped, voice faint. "It's okay. I'm not sure if it punctured any arteries... I don't think so... based on the... blood flow..." She sounded lost and confused, so unlike her normal self. Avielle swallowed thickly as the truth hit her hard.

Elsa was dying. She was dying all because of a stupid fight that Avielle could have prevented if she hadn't been so stupid and gone off with Courfeyrac and gotten distracted...

"Elsa, what's it called when you lose too much blood?" Maddy asked flatly, voice unreadable.

Elsa frowned, eyes wide. She leaned back as Avielle slowly touched the cut. It looked so deep... "I- I-" She stammered, unsure of her words for once. "Hypovolemic shock, I think... Not sure..."

"Well, you have that," Ally sighed, squeezing her cold, clammy hand.

"We need a doctor," Avielle choked out hoarsely.

"Our doctor is bleeding out through her gut," Ally snapped fiercely.

"I think... I'm gonna pass out..."

"Elsa, no!"

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I know I should..." Elsa's head suddenly dropped back, her eyes closed, breathing shallow.

"Oh god!" Avielle cried, not able to control herself anymore. She backed up to the bed and scrambled on to the top bunk, sobbing.

"No, Elsa, wake up. Wake up, sweetie. Look at me!" Ally shouted, shaking Elsa's shoulder and slapping her cheeks. She didn't react.

"Is she dying?" Maddy asked softly.

"Don't say that!" Ally shouted in fury, looking ready to hit Maddy. She was in total denial, Avielle thought solemnly. Total denial.

But Avielle knew the truth.

Elsa was dying.

_**AN: Here you go, readers. Please review, I worked so hard on this chapter to make it perfect and it's really stressful because I'm having a hard time, and-**_

_**Sorry. So, will Elsa die? What do you guys think?**_


	12. In which everybody gets powers

You are a selfish fool, Isabella told herself as she sunk to her knees sobbing in the kitchen.

Mom always told her that. She had to, of course- it was her way of "keeping the girl right". Isabella knew that her stepmother meant no ill will towards her, even when she shouted at her and kept her up until two in the morning with nasty punishments for bad behavior. Lucille wasn't punished- Lucille was never punished, even when Lucille was the one who did the deeds in the first place. Isabella always took Lucille's punishments because Lucille had to get her sleep at night. Lucille went to a private school, and she had to make good grades. Even though Isabella got very high grades, she only went to a public school, so her education didn't matter as much.

She knew why this was, of course. She wasn't a Litten, even though she dined with them and went to church with them and had lived with them for the past nine years. She was not Isabella Britten, older sister of Lucille Litten and daughter of the two wealthy Littens, who lived in a large mansion up on Pine Wood Hill. That girl didn't exist.

She was Isabella Celeste Ricci, daughter of a poor carpenter who was killed in a horrific accident when Isabella was only four. A year later, her mother married wealthy millionaire Tom Litten, only to die eight months later from a heart condition. Thus the little girl with the round cheeks and the slight lisp in her speech was left an orphan. Mr. Litten adopted the child as his own, of course, for he was a decent man and that's just what decent men do in his situation. But he was cold and inattentive to the girl, left to her own devices for most of the long days.

Eventually he remarried, not liking the quiet of the house, for the little girl was docile and soft-natured, never boisterous, always seeming off in her own world. He married a woman from a wealthy New York family, who had been divorced once before and had a daughter, a tiny moppet of a girl with large green eyes and sunny blonde hair. This child was four, three years younger than the girl already living in the house, and her name was Lucille.

Lucille was favored greatly over her stepsister by her mother, who saw young Isabella as a nuisance. She put her off in her own room and rarely tried to include the child in anything the family did. Lucille. However, was intrigued by this new sister and they became close friends. The child was decent, the mother beastly.

Isabella was rarely hit. When she was, she was told that it was for something bad that she did, like stay up past her bedtime (seven thirty- Lucy never had a bedtime) or forget to finish her veggies. Isabella knew that her step-parents loved her- they took her in and raised her ("We could have turned you out on the streets, little kid like that. Who would have cared for you, hmm? Ugly little child that you were, no one would have cared, not then and not now."). They loved her and sent her to one of the best public schools in the district. They weren't openly cruel, and Isabella wasn't unhappy. Even so, she had very little self-worth. Compared to the sunny, bright Lucy, Isabella was nothing special.

Still, she never soured, never turned bitter against the world. She retreated into her head even more as a child, and certainly as a teenager. She saw the world as a bright, happy place, with everyone always willing to lend a hand to those in need, and gentlemen still bowed and ladies curtsied and people still laughed and danced and everywhere you looked, people were falling in love and everyone was happy. There were always happy endings.

She was a bad person, she knew that. Her mother warned her all the time- out of love, of course. She was too greedy- when Cook made cookies, she always had to split the dish in half with Lucille- Lucille should get more than Isabella because she studies so hard, even if Isabella helped bake the cookies. Isabella was too selfish- she had to always have at least two pairs of good jeans in her closet, even if Lucille had five pairs. She was too dull- she never spoke of anything interesting. She was stupid- she got a 'C' in math and didn't know half the things Lucy knew of the latest Spring fashions in Paris. She was silly- always off fantasizing over some fictional boy when she could be out talking to actual people, instead of her empty-headed friends.

And maybe she was indeed a horrible person, she pondered to herself. After all, who was sobbing on the floor? Not Elsa, and she was sick, bleeding so much- Isabella hated blood. She wasn't injured because she was too cowardly to fight to help her friends, and now she's hiding. She had to go out there- Elsa was her friend and she needed her.

She forced herself to stand shakily- if Elsa died, as Isabella was well aware that she could, Isabella would be there. But there had to be something that could be done- this couldn't be the end…

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember anything that she could that might help her at that moment. Flashes ran through her head, different words, different voices, some that she didn't even recognize-

_"I think the house was struck by lightning."_

_"I've just thought of something- what if we're all dead?"_

_"Are you alright?" _

_"Yes, I'm fine. I'm so, so, so sorry about this, she has problems sometimes and... I'm so incredibly sorry,"_

"_What is your name, mademoiselle?"_

"_Remember, my Bella, any problem can be solved if you just think it over… Never forget to think."_

"_Yes, mama."_

"_You don't think enough, girl!"_

"_There's gonna be hell to pay, at the end of the day!"_

"_Elsa, is that yours?"_

"_Oh, geez- you're bleeding!"_

"_Stop it, Isabella. It's just a little cut, a flesh wound."_

"_Elsa, you were stabbed, weren't you?"_

"_I can't breathe, I'm losing too much blood."_

_"Es war leicht, wirklich."_

This last one was the key and she gasped, leaning against the table. Of course! There had to be a solution to this through magic. She just had to think….

It hit her suddenly- she knew that it was wishful thinking, a long shot, crazy almost, but she had to try it, for Elsa. From the bedroom, she could hear someone wailing.

She plotholed in a sharp knife and held it to the front of her finger. She wondered for a brief moment if she was crazy, but forced herself to ignore the little voice in the back of her mind screaming 'bad idea' and ran the blade swiftly across the soft skin, gasping sharply at the pain. It was a tiny cut, but it drew blood. It would do. Isabella prayed that this would work.

She dropped the knife and it fell to the ground with a sharp clatter, but she ignored it, holding her now free hand over the cut finger. She wasn't sure how this worked, but she had to focus- no, maybe not focusing would work best… or perhaps she should just imagine it healed and it would be so? How had Lena done this, anyway?"

"_It wasn't hard, really."_

Not hard. Okay. She bit her lip until she drew blood as she channeled every ounce of energy into healing this one cut, this tiny thing with so little blood, so little pain-

It wasn't working. No, please, it _had_ to work, it _needed_ to work-

"Oh god!" The anguished cry of horror and defeat echoed from the other room and Isabella faintly recognized Avielle's voice. Somehow, hearing this gave her strength, forcing her to try her hardest. There was no giving up, there was no defeat, this was Elsa, she would die for Elsa, she would die for any of her friends, really, but Elsa was bleeding now, and it had to work.

Isabella opened her eyes and looked down at the finger. There was nothing. No blood, no cut, nothing. As if it had never occurred in the first place.

She took off running into the bedroom, not caring that her hair was mused up from her crying, only knowing that it was vital that she got there before Elsa… she wouldn't say it, but as she entered the room she almost feared that she would have to.

Elsa was slumped on a bed, white as a sheet. There was no color anywhere in her face. It seemed as though she had just been washed out- she looked like a figure in the old black and white movies- colorless, gaunt, nearly dead.

"Is she-" Isabella gasped, running over to Elsa's side in a panic.

"_No_." Ally replied forcefully, voice hard and cold. "She is _not._"

"Ally," Isabella gazed up into the pale face of their leader, brown eyes wide. "I can fix her. Let me try."

"Isabella, what do you mean?"

"I can fix her! Will you let me?"

Ally regarded her coldly for a moment, as if unsure as to what to say. Finally, she nodded, almost imperceptibly, but Isabella jumped in to action, hovering her hands over Elsa's wound, close enough to feel the slow, shallow, fading breaths Elsa struggled to take.

She focused until her head felt as if it would split, until she started trembling and felt as if she were the ill one. She focused until all color drained from her face and she felt nothing, no cold, no pain, completely numb. She felt nothing and thought nothing, feeling separate and detached from the rest of the world. Her eyes, she found, seemed glued shut, and her hands were stiff and unmoving. Perhaps she was dead, perhaps Elsa was too, perhaps they all were- what else could explain the cold and the sweat and the numbness she felt, focusing… on what, exactly? She couldn't remember.

"Bella," a voice sounded, close to her ear but yet seeming so far away. "Bella, stop. It's no use, I don't think…" The voice trailed off, and a new, colder, emotionless one took its place. "She's dead, or will be in a minute."

Elsa. That was what she was doing. But no, no, Elsa couldn't be dead, it was impossible. She was too young, too smart, too- no, she wasn't dead yet, Isabella thought, feeling a light breath under her hand. She was still living.

She focused on Elsa now, seeing her alive, walking, dancing, giggling about Ryan Archer with Isabella at school, curled up on Ally's bed with a book, talking rapidly about a dream she had of her and Combeferre's wedding, a wedding that she would have-

All of a sudden, a firm breath.

Another breath, and then another. Isabella couldn't open her eyes, but she envisioned color slowly returning to Elsa's body and blue eyes flickering open, darting around in confusion…

"You guys?"

By that point, Isabella was done. Physically and mentally exhausted, she felt the world grow cold around her. Finally, Isabella could focus no more and dropped where she sat, out cold.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Bella?" Noelle cried, lifting the girl up by her arms and propping her up against the bed.

"Elsa!" Avielle gasped, literally diving off of her bunk and on to Elsa's bed. She wrapped her arms around her friend tightly, not caring that Elsa's shirt, drenched in sweat and blood, was staining all of her clothing. Elsa gasped in surprise, but patted her friend gently on the back as she wept into her shoulder.

"Shh, Avi, it's okay, I'm okay..." She looked up to see Ally standing there. Her face was unreadable- it seemed as though she were unsure whether to laugh or cry. She made a choking sound in her throat and finally managed to gasp out:

"Elsa..."

Elsa smiled at her friend in slight bewilderment. "Ally," she looked around at Maddy, who was staring at her as if she had two heads, Marleni, who was smiling blearily at her, Noelle, who seemed to be wiping away a tear, and Avielle, who was just plain freaking out. "Uh, what happened?"

"You don't remember?" Maddy gasped incredulously, eyes huge.

"No, but I suppose I should, judging by your reaction."

"Elsa," Noelle breathed softly, not quite sure how to tell this to someone. "You were hurt, bad. You got stabbed in a fight, but didn't tell anyone... You almost died."

Elsa frowned, unbelieving. "What?" She laughed humorlessly. "Don't be ridiculous. I- I couldn't, I..." She looked down, finally, at her blood-soaked T-shirt and the blood everywhere- her blood. "I... no, I couldn't, I- I couldn't have!" She looked up, horrified and stunned. "But, if I- You can't lose that much blood and live and I'm still alive!" She looked around desperately for help. "Ally- tell them-"

"Elsa, it's true," Ally cut in.

"No!"

"Yes! Bella saved your life, somehow."

"Somehow," Isabella murmured, sitting up slowly. "Somehow as in, it's a power of some sort. I can heal people by focusing. It isn't easy, but I can do it."

"Like, a superpower?" asked Maddy in bewilderment. Isabella shrugged.

"I guess, Maddy. I sort of saved Elsa's life, then." She smiled softly at the blood-soaked girl who grinned widely back at her.

"Bella's a hero!" Avielle exclaimed and began clapping loudly. Noelle, Ally and Elsa joined in too. Maddy didn't, but Isabella saw that she looked to be in pain. She blushed shyly, not used to getting so much attention.

Suddenly, Maddy cleared her throat and all eyes turned toward her.

"Well, if that's true, then let's test you."

"How?" Isabella asked quietly, still rather tired from the whole healing Elsa thing.

"My ankle's sprained. Can you fix it?"

"Maddy," Elsa scolded sternly. "Isabella just saved my life, your ankle can wait a moment or two.

"But it hurts," Maddy whined with a frown. She had sprained things before, as a dancer, and she hated it. She couldn't dance, and wasn't able to walk right, and if there was a way out then she was taking it.

"Oh, no, guys. It's alright. Here Maddy, if it really hurts then- let me see." Isabella reached out to see Maddy's ankle, but Ally put a hand on her shoulder.

"Bella, are you sure? That seemed to take a lot out of you."

Isabella would have grinned in any other circumstance. Ally was worried about her. Ally, who never seemed to worry about anything, was worried about her. But now was not the time, so she merely nodded solemnly, firmly. Ally frowned but returned the nod and released Isabella. She scrambled over to her friend and frowned. How did she do this, again?

She held her hands over the injury and thought hard. It seemed to work best when she focused hard... and imagined her friends in her mind. Of course, it would make sense that little Isabella, who grew up in her own head, would have a power that focuses on her imagination.

So she pictured Maddy- Maddy as she knew her best, in the dance studio. Graceful music echoed through the room as Maddy moved gracefully, every movement blending with the melody, each leap and twirl executed flawlessly, and the blissful look on her face was so peaceful. The music halted and Maddy froze. The music leaped and Maddy soared. The music was so soothing and the dancer so talented that it was impossible to feel unhappy-

"Oh!" Maddy exclaimed, grabbing her ankle and twisting it. "Hey, it's fixed! It doesn't hurt at all! Bella!"

Isabella grinned and slumped back. "Welcome, Maddy," she gasped, panting. This healing thing took a lot of effort.

"It's okay, Bella," Elsa soothed, passing her friend a pillow. "Rest. You've done enough." Isabella looked around nervously at her friends but graciously accepted the soft pillow and was asleep in minutes.

And so they had powers. Ally wasn't sure what to make of this.

It stood to reason that they very well could have strange new powers- they had already been gifted with plotholing powers, who was to say something else couldn't have been done to them? Bella could heal people- that would come in handy, especially for Bridget, who looked dead. Ally had seen her get knocked it the head several times, really hard. She was worried that Bridget had sustained a skull fracture or something.

She approached Isabella slowly, and tried her best to be gentle when she shook the girl's shoulder. Isabella's eyes flickered open. "Oh. Hey, Al. Morning?"

Ally smirked. "Not, yet, I'm afraid. Hey Avi, what's the time?"

Avielle checked her watch. "Uhh, almost nine."

Isabella sat up quickly. "Oh, god! Jehan, I forgot all about him! Is he-"

"Fine," Noelle interrupted absently. "I let Bossuet in with him. He's been sleeping a lot, Bossuet is really worried."

"I'm worried too."

"Don't worry, Bella, he's fine," Avielle put in, and Isabella returned her cheerful smile before turning back to Ally. "Oh, I'm sorry Ally, did you need me for something?"

"Yes, actually," Ally said, gesturing with her right hand to Bridget, who still looked rather dead and was starting to disturb Marleni. "I know it's tiring, but Bridget seems to be really out of it, and if you could do something-"

"Oh!" Isabella exclaimed, jumping off the bed with a self-confidant grin. "Of course! I suppose that practice is best- Maddy wasn't that hard to heal because I had an odea of what to do." She made her way over to Bridget's bed, and frowned. "Where exactly-"

"The head, somewhere."

"Oh." Isabella took Bridget's hand in hers and hovered her other hand over her head.

Isabella focused on her friend, remembering her in the play this year at her drama club. Bridget's entire family took part in Bellton Drama Club's theatre productions each year. This year the play had been- what else- Les Miserables. Briget's little sisters had all gotten parts as beggars, and her brother Declan played Gavroche. Bridget herself managed to land the part of Eponine, and Isabella remembered how she had shone on the stage, and how bright her grin was when she stood at curtain call and how she had broken down weeping at the end of On My Own and that the audience had been convinced that she was really sobbing. And Isabella remembered how Bridget had called her up an hour before showtime nearly sobbing because she was so nervous to go onstage, and was convinced that she would mess up. Isabella felt a sudden pang of guilt that Bridget always seemed to be off on her own. She and her were supposed to be best friends, but Isabella found that often she would get so caught up in exchanging words with Avi and Maddy or discussing something with Elsa and Bridget would be off on her own just writing in her notebook.

Lost in these thoughts, she felt Bridget squeeze her hand and opened her eyes to see her friend. "Hey, Bella... What's wrong?You look tired."

"I'm fine." Isabella sighed. "You are too, now. Got hit in the head, I guess."

"How are you, Bridg?" Elsa asked softly. Bridget rubbed her head, looking bewildered. "Fine, I think."

"Oh, we have strange new powers now." Maddy put in nonchalantly from over by the door. Bridget sat up straight with a surprised noise.

"You okay?"

"So that's what I was dreaming about, then!" She exclaimed in surprise. The other girls frowned at her, so she continued.

"I had a dream that we all had new powers from the plothole. We used them to force the Amis to marry us."

Isabella sat up straight, eyes bright. "Really? What powers exactly?"

"Oh..." Bridget frowned, thinking hard. Finally, she pointed to each one of the girls and told them exactly what they could do.

"Plot contrivance..." murmured Maddy under her breath, but she was pointedly ignored.

Avielle, apparently, had a sort of empath power. She could effect others emotions based on her own. Upon hearing this, Avi whooped and jumped up, spinning around in circles for a moment.

Elsa had a superhuman memory- she forgot _nothing_. This made Avi force her to jump around as well, but Elsa tripped and they both fell down, giggling.

Ally had a rather mediocre power, or so she thought. She had the power of words- she could get her point across no matter what, and even if you didn't agree it was easy to see exactly what Ally meant. What kind of power was that, Ally wondered, compared to Noelle's power- the ability to send people into a deep sleep using her mind, but only for about a minute.

Marleni was seriously bilingual- she could speak any language at will. She grinned at that, but her head still hurt, so Isabella set to fixing that.

Bridget herself happened to have a power that she actually hated- she could go un-noticed in any surrounding. She could walk in to a room and no one would take any notice of her. She hated it, because she had that already, and she was trying to stop doing that. Now it was a superpower? Not. Fair.

Maddy, as it turns out, had possibly the most interesting of all powers. She had always been a dancer- now she could hypnotize people through dance.

"Awesome!" She exclaimed and immediately tried to test it out, but Avielle shot her leg out and tripped her before she could take a step.

"Not today, sweetie."

Maddy snorted, but Avielle was in too good a mood to care. She lay down on her bunk, thinking hard. This day had gone from good to bad to really good to absolutely terrifying, and now it was back to being awesome- crazy. She was just so happy- not to mention, she sort of had a date for tomorrow.

On the subject of Courfeyrac, she had made the conscious decision not to tell anyone else about where she had gone. No one seemed to care that she had come in late- she had saved them, that was all. No one asked questions, but she had known Ally and Elsa for too long. They were wondering, she knew that. She could see it in their eyes, they wondered. but she wouldn't say a word. This was her secret. She didn't have to share it with any of her brothers or her parents and she didn't have to tell her friends. of course they would want to know, but she wanted to keep Courfeyrac her secret. No one needed to know.

It wasn't as if she didn't know what she was doing. She had been on dates before- she wasn't a virgin anymore. Of course, her parents didn't know that. Ally and Elsa did, they were the only ones she had told, but she thought Tom might know, they were too close. She knew that she was bi, but she figured that Courfeyrac wouldn't really care. in her mind, he would be too, had he lived in modern day.

She had her secrets, and she was allowed them. She briefly wondered what her family was doing now. Were they worried about her? Had the Amigas even really gone missing, or had time just stopped?

What if they were all dead? She couldn't leave Mama- she was her only daughter, and her "little bucket of sunshine", Mama needed her. Daddy needed his little girl to spoil, and Jesse needed someone who could teach him how to wrestle without accidentally breaking his ribs, although Jake maintained that that was an accident. Her family needed her, and so did her friends- what about Jason? Who would play ball with him on Saturdays, when his parents couldn't care less and James was off with his sister? And Maria needed her to help with her allergies, so that she wouldn't end up in the hospital again.

No. She couldn't be dead. There was no way.

Avielle let her eyes slip shut with the promise that she wouldn't let herself be dead- no matter what, she had to be around for her family, for her friends... she had a life and wasn't keen on leaving that behind.

_**AN: So, now we start getting in to the meat of the story. All powers are in conjunction with their original introductions and maake sense for their personality. However, there are no real super powers, so they won't go crazy god-playing and kidnap everyone- they'll learn how their powers are used and become organized. More Bella/Jehan next chapter and more 'Ponine too, maybe.**_

_**Sorry if this one wasn't that good, I've been really sick recently.**_


	13. In which families mourn

"Hey, Elle?"

Noelle rolled on to her side and looked up. There on the top bunk was Maddy, her head sticking over the side and looking down on her. In the dim light, her short hair cast shadows across her face. "Mmm, yeah?"

"Are you sleeping?"

Noelle snorted. "No, I'm playing chess. What time is it?"

"Two AM, I think."

"Two- glory, Maddy! Two in the morning! My god!"

Maddy hushed her quickly. "Shut it! You'll wake everyone!"

"Everyone smart enough to be asleep now. What's wrong, Maddy?

"Elsa and Ally aren't asleep. They're in the kitchen." Maddy gestured for Noelle to come up, and Noelle obligingly got out of bed and pulled herself up the ladder to the top bunk.

"Well, that's their problem, then," Noelle replied in an irritated manner. "I was sleeping."

"Then that's your problem."

Noelle sighed. Maddy never was a good sleeper. "What's up?"

Maddy frowned, pulling the blanket around her thin shoulders. She seemed more pensive than anything, Noelle thought, so it couldn't be anything serious.

"I've been thinking…" Maddy said slowly. "About tonight. I mean, Elsa almost died and I don't even know about Bridget, but… this is so crazy. I just don't get it. How do we have these new powers?"

Noelle shrugged. She honestly had as much of an idea as Maddy. She supposed that the plothole thing must have done something to them- she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing. "It stands to reason that we could very well have new powers that we have no idea about."

"But there haven't been any signs until Bella and Bridget said something- at least, not for me."

"Me neither," Noelle shook her head, leaning against the wall and dangling her feet over the side of the bed. "But hey, at least we have pretty cool powers, right? You can hypnotize people, and I can knock people out."

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

"I'm not saying that these powers aren't wonderful- I mean, they are! But- how do we even know it's true? As far as I've noticed, my memory hasn't changed much since yesterday."

"I know, Elsa," Ally nodded, resting her chin in her palm. She leaned forward at the table and drank a glass of chocolate milk, figuring the sugar would help her stay awake a while longer. She was exhausted, but was determined to sort everything out.

"I've been thinking about these powers and I realized something- these powers are all just stuff that we very well could have. Maddy is an incredible dancer, so it stands to reason that people would want to watch her. Marleni can speak several languages already, you're a great leader and public speaker, and Bella just wants to help everyone."

"Basically it's like giving Marius the power of luck," Ally observed solemnly. "Marius does things badly but everything always works out for him. Maybe that could be a superpower."

"These powers are just enhancements of things that we do naturally," Elsa nodded.

"What about Noelle? Putting people to sleep?"

"I don't know. Her dad's an anesthesiologist. That could be why."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"I wouldn't worry about it, anyway," said Noelle softly, gently pushing Maddy back on to the pillow. Maddy, not having any of it, sat up again.

"Can't sleep, Elle."

"Oh," Noelle frowned, seeming to think hard. An idea hit her, but she was apprehensive about it. "Uhh, I have an idea."

"Hmm?"

"My power. I could test it out."

"You don't even know that you have a power!" Maddy exclaimed a bit too loudly. Sheepishly, she lowered her voice. "Besides, I'm not sure-"

"I know," Noelle sighed, "But I would like to try."

Maddy frowned, mentally deliberating whether or not to do this. It might be pretty cool, and she doubted she would be able to get to sleep anyway- besides, she trusted Noelle with her life. "Fine," she said at last. "Do your worst, Supergirl."

Noelle grinned excitedly. At that moment it hit her that she had absolutely no idea whatsoever how this power thing worked. "Uhh, I don't know how..."

"Just try focusing," Maddy suggested.

Noelle nodded and tried that. Focus, focus, focus- nothing. She focused until her head pounded and she felt dizzy, but nothing happened. Ugh, this wasn't working. _Just go to sleep, Maddy, _she urged_, and then I can say I have real powers. I __**want**__ to have real powers, and I could, if you would just go... to... sleep!_

Suddenly Maddy gasped in surprise and Noelle started, staring at her. "What?"

"I just blinked and there was, like, this huge flash of light. It's gone now- whoa, that was weird."

"Did I do that?"

"I don't know," Maddy shrugged. "Did you?"

"Well, do you feel tired?"

Maddy frowned, checking herself mentally. Did she feel tired? Well, she supposed that her head felt a bit fuzzy, but was that normal? Her eyelids felt sort of heavy- maybe.

"Not sure."

"Oh. Well, that failed."

"You'll get the hang of it," Maddy yawned, shaking her head slowly. Noelle's eyes widened eagerly.

"Hey, you yawned. You yawned!"

"Oh," Maddy frowned. "Yeah, I guess I am kinda tired-" Her eyelids drooped suddenly. "Oh, wow, really tired. Wow." She yawned again and grinned sleepily. "Hey, it works."

"Yeah!" Noelle exclaimed, excited now. "D'you think it'll get better as I practice more?"

"Mmm-hmm," Maddy replied, leaning back against the pillow. "I just feel really tired all at once, y'know? This is actually... kind of cool."

Noelle beamed as Maddy continued. "It's just, like, not _wanting_ to stay awake- it's not unpleasant." She lay her head down. "G'night, Elle."

"Goodnight Maddy," replied Noelle, but Maddy was already asleep. Noelle quietly climbed back down to her own bed and curled up in the covers.

This was beyond cool. So, she did have powers! She wondered how they worked. Maybe Elsa could do some tests tomorrow. This was awesome, really awesome. She would have to talk some more to Bridget about her dream.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

_"Finn?" The little girl whispered, shaking the sleeping form's shoulder. The boy raised his head, blinking sleepily in the darkness._

_"Elle?" he asked, reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing his wire glasses, sliding them on to his face. He regarded his ten year old sister with concern. "What's wrong?"_

_"I had a nightmare." She replied softly, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. "I got really scared."_

_"What was it about?" Finn asked as his sister sat at the foot of his bed. Her large green eyes shone in the dim light coming from the window, and she looked distraught._

_"Daddy had to get an operation and the doctor was Hitler. I told him not to go, but he wouldn't listen, and it was really scary."_

_Finn sighed. As bizarre as this situation was, it seemed to be happening more and more frequently lately. "You were reading about the Holocaust before bed again, weren't you?" The little girl smiled sheepishly and nodded her head, messy brown hair bobbing up and down with her movements. Noelle had gotten a book on the Holocaust from the school library and wouldn't stop reading it. "Elle," the twelve year old sighed, taking his sister's hand, "Hitler's dead. He has been since nineteen forty five."_

_"But his body-"_

_"If he were still alive, he would be over one-hundred."_

_"Great Gramma's ninety seven."_

_"Great Gramma can hardly blink," Finn replied, eliciting a giggle from the child. He smiled back at her. "Hitler's dead, and he won't be giving dad any surgeries anytime soon. It's okay."_

_"Are you sure, Finn?" The girl breathed softly, squeezing his hand tightly, sharp fingernails digging into his palm until Finn was sure that they're going to draw blood._

_"Yes, Noelle," he replied, and together they walk back to her room. He helps her in to bed, pulling the warm, thick blankets up to her chin and handing her the tiny stuffed cow that she had loved so much when she was a baby and still couldn't be separated from. Mooey, she had named it, because toddlers are quite bad at naming things. He started to back out of the room when she spoke again, quiet voice not really shattering the peaceful silence, only making it more powerful._

_"Good night, Finn."_

_"Good night, Nella," he whispered in reply, using the pet name that only he used, and that was just how they liked it._

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

They began to awake mere minutes after Avielle left.

Feuilly was the first one to stir, eyes opening blearily and darting around. He jumped to his feet in seconds, pulling a little green dart out from his back. He stared at it in shock, his eyes wide and unbelieving. He had been drugged.

He had lived on the street most of his childhood, and knew about unsavory dealings. He knew criminals, had associated with them in his youth, even had several good friends who had turned to a less honest living without a second thought. Yet he had always been able to keep out of trouble before. He had never been drugged, but he had seen it done, and he always swore that he would fight back. Typically it took several minutes for any type of drug to take effect- this poison was insanely fast. He remembered a sharp pain, and then his mind racing in a panic, the world spinning around him and growing black, and then... nothingness, until he opened his eyes. Yet, he had been drugged.

Damn it.

He was angry, of course. Outraged. Now, this was personal. Instinctively he checked his pockets- yes, his remaining franc was still there, as it had been before. He hadn't been robbed. Courfeyrac stood off to the side, examining the still body of someone, who's golden curls unmistakably pinpoint him as Enjolras. He had not yet noticed that he was awake, and that was fine with Feuilly. He always had preferred being on his own, and didn't need anyone fussing over him. He was fine, he could walk- he was a bit dizzy, but he supposed that that was only natural. He made off into the night quickly and quietly, never noticed.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

As Feuilly took his leave, Grantaire awoke. He had been hit with a yellow dart- each poison reacted differently, depending on the color (they were Elsa's own creations). The poison in the yellow darts were supposed to take about twenty minutes to wear off, but the poison didn't care and the copious amount of alcohol in Grantaire's system certainly didn't either. He sat up blearily, head spinning, and glanced around him. He was in a street, right outside the Musain... oh. He must have passed out again. Why didn't anyone wake him? It was dangerous to be unconscious on the street at night, totally defenseless. Someone always took care to get him home.

It was then that he actually looked around him and remembered what had happened. He had been shot with something. He couldn't exactly recall what exactly it had been, but he remembered that he had been running and was being fired at from the sky. He remembered there had been a fight, and he remembered seeing Enjolras getting hit and then lunging at the person who had hit him- a pale girl, he recalled. He remembered the pale girl falling on the concrete and her head cracking loudly as it hit, and then Joly's cane hitting her again- that may have been an accident, Grantaire couldn't be sure. He remembered seeing Bahorel fall and then Feuilly next to him get shot, and then he took off and ran, wanting to distract the shooter so that maybe Enjolras could get away, but he was hit-

Enjolras. Where was he?

Grantaire spotted someone standing over a body. He made his way towards them unsteadily, although whether that was from the drug or the absinthe he couldn't tell. He called out to them, and the figure spun around abruptly. It was Courfeyrac, looking rather worried, but he brightened up as soon as he saw the drunkard.

"Grand R!" He called cheerfully. "Back from the grave, I see."

"Not quite," Grantaire replied, "Once a mortal finds himself in the clutches of Thanatos, escape does not tend to come easy to-" He was then distracted by the body lying at Courfeyrac's feet. The face was unmistakable.

"Enjolras!" He gasped, racing to his side and falling to his knees. The other man was still, his eyes shut and his face pale. He looked... Grantaire didn't want to say it, but he looked dead. At that moment, Grantaire thought he would be sick. He couldn't imagine life without Enjolras. He needed Enjolras. Enjolras was perfect. Enjolras was too passionate, too hopeful, too brilliant to be dead. Grantaire would have been sick if he hadn't been able to feel the steady rise and fall of his Apollo's chest.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back to earth. "Grantaire," Courfeyrac whispered softly, his voice laced with sympathy. "It is sleep. It is only sleep."

"He's cold," Grantaire murmured, standing slowly. He was not willing to leave Enjolras' side, yet he allowed himself to be directed towards the cafe. Stepping inside, he slowly made his way to the back room.

"What 'appened to you?" The widow Hucheloup called to him, but Grantaire didn't answer.

He needed a drink.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Once Grantaire was gone, only four remained asleep; Joly, Bahorel, Combeferre and Enjolras.

Courfeyrac frowned, leaning against a wall of one of the houses. Avielle had been gone for a good five minutes. She had said that they should be waking up now. Feuilly was gone, Grantaire was drinking, yet no one else stirred. He sat and thought for another few minutes, chewing on his bottom lip.

He liked the girl, Avielle. She was very open and friendly, and seemed an overall pleasant person. She had a great smile and made for interesting conversation. She talked a lot, but so did he.

Courfeyrac was the type who loved people, and could see the good in everyone. Why, just the other day he had come across a young dandy whose clothes were shabby and worn. He was handsome, young, rather pretty- Courfeyrac wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he had seen him before. His name, he recalled, was Mont-something. Anyway, Mont-something was eyeing Courfeyrac with his hand in his pocket as the law student passed through a deserted alley. Courfeyrac, seeing the condition of Mont-something's hat, had handed him his own, right off of his head. He made Mont-something's day, and it wasn't as if he would actually have managed to keep the hat on his head much longer anyways.

Because that was the type of person Courfeyrac was. Courfeyrac was good. Courfeyrac was special.

And Courfeyrac could see that same type of gene in Avielle too, a generous person, vibrant and loud but pleasant company altogether. He found himself looking forward to the next night when he would see her once more. He wanted to learn more about her.

It was at this moment Enjolras moaned, which took Courfeyrac by surprise. Enjolras did not moan. Never had he, in all the years he had known him, heard Enjolras moan. He sighed, yes, and shouted often during particularly passionate speeches, but he never moaned. Courfeyrac approached him slowly and, reaching down, turned his body over so that he was lying on his back. Enjolras' brilliant blue eyes were slits, but he was awake and looking around.

"Hullo, Courfeyrac," He murmured dazedly as Courfeyrac helped him sit up. "Where- why exactly are we outside the Musain?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not really."

"Well, think then, for you should remember this. The meeting? The fight? The insane women trying to kidnap us?"

"Oh." Enjolras seemed slightly disoriented, but frowned, brow creasing. He couldn't quite recall everything. He remembered Combeferre and Bahorel asking the women questions... They had said something about kissing, and all of a sudden there were more of them. "Honestly, I remember nothing after the girls poured out of the Cafe."

"Ah," said Courfeyrac casually, patting his shoulder. "In that case, from what I gather you all confronted them and there was a rather large fight. Then Avielle- ah, one of the mademoiselles- shot everyone."

Enjolras' head shot up suddenly, eyes wide in alarm but his face otherwise impassive. "Shot everyone?"

"Put them to sleep," Courfeyrac corrected hastily. "Nothing more. Feuilly and Grantaire have woken up already, everyone else should wake up soon." He quickly resumed his usual good cheer. "It's fine, Enjolras. I don't think they intend to hurt us."

Enjolras raised one of his handsome eyebrows at him. "And you know this... how?"

Courfeyrac chose not to reply as Bahorel began to come around. He groaned and sat up slowly, head pounding. He opened his eyes but they closed again as the sharp light spilling from the Musain hit them. "What the hell happened?" A street fight, he figured. He must have made a wrong move, a false turn, and gotten knocked out flat. It had happened before, and that would be what most made sense. He must have gotten _some_ hit. He couldn't even remember the fight.

"Bahorel." Enjolras' low, solemn voice cut through his thoughts and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up at him. Enjolras had a painful looking bruise on his cheek but was otherwise fine. He looked great, as usual. He was Enjolras, he always looked great. It wasn't possible for him not to. The marble lover of liberty had to be beautiful, no matter what.

"What happened?" Bahorel asked. He literally could not remember anything before he had... gone to the meeting with the women. Oh. So it had gone wrong, then.

"The meeting went wrong," Enjolras informed him softly. "We were all knocked unconscious. The women are gone.

Bahorel frowned, concerned. "I cannot recall any of the meeting."

Enjolras shook his head. "Neither can I." He was greatly concerned about this. What if one of the women had touched him again while he slept? He would have no way of knowing, and he didn't like that at all.

"Not to interrupt," Courfeyrac butted in, now standing over the body of Joly, "But shouldn't 'Ferre and Joly have woken up by now?" Both men had been hit with blue darts, and had been asleep for the past twenty five minutes.

Enjolras frowned, eyes darting between the two crumpled men. "They should," he said at last. He wandered over to Combeferre's body and knelt down. His glasses were askew on his face and his dark hair was tousled. He looked uncomfortable in his position, so Enjolras adjusted him, placing his arms at his sides. "Come on, old friend," he whispered in a concerned tone most people never heard him use. "Wake up." But Combeferre did not stir, and Enjolras stood. Regarding Courfeyrac and Bahorel solemnly, he said:

"Bring them inside. We need to discuss this. We have no idea what these women are capable of, and only Combeferre remembers what has happened- that is, if he has not forgotten either."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

_(Meanwhile, in quite a different time...)_

She read the article for the fourth time. The words were there, printed clear as day on the page. She had always trusted the page, she had learned to trust it. If it was written, it had some level of truth. If it was written, it was clear.

But the words on the page were not clear to her- they were a garbled mess of letters and something that should not have been written, ever. Because it wasn't true. It couldn't be. Not her little sister.

Alexandra swallowed a thick lump in her throat and closed her eyes. She didn't want to look at the pictures, the eight smiling pictures printed side by side in the newspaper. There was Avielle, looking joyous, Bridget, smiling shyly, Noelle, with an awkward grin... Maddy, with her confident smirk and raised eyebrow, looking radiant and beautiful and... perfect. She didn't want to look, but she forced herself to. She owed that much to her. She opened her eyes and read the article once more.

_**Eight Girls Missing in Virginia; Disappeared During Storm**_

_Eight teenage girls have gone missing from the same house in Henley, Virginia. The girls all disappeared Friday night during a freak thunderstorm. _

_Friends Avielle Hansen, Noelle Piatek, Alice Harrison, Madeleine Nguyen, Isabella Ricci, Bridget McDonnell, Marleni Cortes, Elsa Goldman disappeared Friday night, between five and nine o'clock during the freak storm that overtook the state. The girls were all last seen in the Harrison household, in Alice Harrison's bedroom._

"_I had only stepped out of the house for an hour, around eight. When I came back, I checked on the girls- but they were gone," Melissa Harrison, Alice's mother, stated. The girls, last seen at six o'clock, had all been staying for dinner, and Elsa Goldman, Isabella Ricci and Avielle Hansen were planning on staying overnight._

_Police are treating this as an abduction investigation. "It would take a remarkably organized criminal to sneak all eight girls out of the house without alerting the neighbors," said Henley police chief Harold Gery._

_Alice Harrison's two sisters, fifteen and twelve years old, were also in the house downstairs but were unharmed. Neither girl heard anything._

"_It's really scary," said fifteen year old Katherine Harrison, "Because me and Meg could have been taken too like Ally, but we weren't. And I'm just wondering, why her? Why not us?"_

_Avielle Hansen has brown curly hair and brown eyes. She was last seen wearing a "Les Miserables" t-shirt and blue skinny jeans. She has her ears pierced but was not wearing earrings at the time. She is sixteen year old. Her skin is slightly tan..._

The article went on to describe them all, in case someone were to see them- to spot them, to possibly save their lives. Alexandra Nguyen was stung- her little sister, her sweet, laughing little sister with her big brown eyes and her pointy teeth and her constant dancing. How many times had Xandra snapped at her to turn down her practice music when she was studying? How many hours had she wasted studying when she could have been hanging out with Maddy, talking to Maddy, helping Maddy?

And now she was gone.

Her mother was inconsolable- she was convinced that Maddy was dead. She knew that cases like these were usually trafficking. They never ended well. "She's dead!" Leslie Chin had sobbed upon reading the article for the first time.

"Mom-" Xandra had protested, but her mother wouldn't listen.

"She's dead! My god! My baby!"

Her boyfriend wasn't faring much better than Xandra. Finn was unbelievably close to his little sister ever since their mother had passed away. Finn had only been fifteen, and Noelle was thirteen- Maddy and Noelle were already best friends by then. Finn and Noelle worshipped each other- Finn's heart was broken, and his dad was a wreck.

Still, Xandra preferred to be at Finn's house- his dad stayed in his room, and she was able to cling to Finn in the kitchen. As long as she was in his arms, it wasn't real, it was just a bad dream, Maddy was waiting at home with some teasing joke or a funny story about her day, something that would cheer Xandra up, and then maybe they would wrestle over the TV remote- Maddy would win, she always won even though Xandra was two years older. Dad would smirk at them over his paper and Mom would scold them gently, reminding them that fighting never solved any problems- Maddy would cheekily give a list of all the things that fighting _did_ solve, starting with the American Revolution. That would set Dad off on another tangent about why America is great and Xandra would glare at Maddy for making him start up again, and Maddy would just wink at her. Then they wouldn't talk to each other for an hour, but by bedtime they would be just fine, as usual. Things would be normal then, just how Alexandra liked it.

Finn held her for the longest time, and only when his cell phone rang on the table did he let her go, but she still leaned against him. he picked up the phone and read the caller ID. "It's Tom."

Tom Hansen, their classmate. Avielle's older brother. Avielle and Maddy were good friends. "Tell him I said hi," Alexandra sighed, reaching up to fix her glasses. Tom was nice- a loud boy, real sporty, but then again, that described most of the Hansen family.

"Hey, Tommy," Finn greeted quietly.

"Hey, man," came the shaky reply. "Have you heard anything?"

"No more than you."

"Yeah," Tom laughed humorlessly, voice sounding strangely hollow. "I just... I just wanted to hear someone else's voice. Mom won't sit still, and she won't leave the phone- she's convinced Avi will call somehow, she always does after staying out all night- but this isn't just all night... They went missing Friday night, it's Sunday morning. Ah, god..." He had to stop for a minute, sounding as if he would start crying, but continued before Finn said anything. "Jesse's locked himself in his room, Jake's on his way down from college, and Alex is... he left last night, in his car. We haven't seen him since. Nicole Verne said that she saw him last night, driving all over town- he's looking for them, Finn."

"He might find them."

Thomas snorted. "He won't find them. The police literally have no leads- how could Alex find them? I swear, Finny, it's like they vanished out of thin air, all of them."

Finn sighed as Xandra squeezed his shoulder tightly. "It's insane."

"I just- I can barely talk, you know? I don't know what I'd do without her, without Avi. I mean, she's... she's my little sister, you know?"

"I know, Tom," came Finn's quiet reply. "You don't have to tell me."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Thenardier had gone, as soon as Eponine had told him. She didn't want to know what he had planned. Her mother had been shocked at first, but then became delighted, and convinced Eponine to get her a romance novel- the trashy type that she enjoyed. Unfortunately, this one was rather boring, and the Thenardiess had fallen asleep over her book. Eponine recognized a chance when she saw one. This could be her only opportunity.

She shook her sister gently. "C'mon 'Zelma. Got to wake up now."

"No," Azelma murmured sleepily. It was the middle of the night, but Eponine didn't sleep a lot. Azelma, however, was a different story. "Go 'way, 'Ponine. I'm tired."

"We have to go!" Eponine hissed, dragging her surprised sister to her feet and covering her mouth with her hand, not flinching even when Azelma tried to bite her. Instead she focused on the girl's words from earlier.

"_We are like sisters. If you ever need us, just plothole to the Amiga base. When we need you, we'll call."_

The Amiga base. She had to get there, she had to get there, it was safe and her father couldn't take advantage of her powers there. As she focused, a small flicker of light appeared before her eyes and rapidly spread into a large ball of light big enough for Eponine to step through. She figured that was what was supposed to happen- right?

Azelma was not so nonchalant as Eponine. Upon the appearance of the plothole, she started screaming and nearly bit straight through Eponine's hand. Eponine swore but held her sister tighter, determined not to let her make a sound. She thrashed as she pushed her through the plothole, with Eponine right behind her. And Eponine didn't look back.

**AN: Here it is. Still sick. So now we find out what happened to the girls in this time. Are they dead? Still don't know. But people are missing them.**


	14. In which Combeferre hijacks a dream

Elsa was sitting with him, and she was happy.

They weren't talking- there was no need for either of the to talk, they were fine just sitting in comfortable silence. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder with a small, dreamy smile. Her eyes closed in contentment. This was real. It had to be. She was really here, with him, with Combeferre.

She wasn't sure where they were, exactly- she forced her eyes open and they darted around, curiosity getting the better of her. It was a romantic picnic spot, of course. Where else would he take her? This was exactly where she would want to go.

They were sitting on a checked blanket, spread out by the edge of a gorgeous crystalline lake. It was in the middle of a forest, but not a forest such as Elsa had ever seen in any books or documentaries. The forest almost seemed like something out of the Disney cartoons Isabella loved so much. The trees were a stunning, vibrant green that made Elsa think of summer days spent climbing trees with Ally and Avi, many years ago. The ground was warm from the bright sun that shone through the leaves, making intricate patterns on the ground and she felt a cool breeze blow both of their dark hair back, the only sound in the still forest.

He had very firm shoulders, she realized. They were strong, but not fighter strong. Probably like hers, strong from carrying ten heavy books at a time. She bet that he could read them all in the same day, too, just like her.

She didn't blame him, for hurting her. He hadn't meant it, he probably hadn't even realized it. He had been distracted by Joly tripping, and his knife was out in front of him. Someone had bumped in to her and she had been pushed forward. She hadn't felt it- she wasn't sure how that was possible, but she hadn't even noticed the blood until she was holding him and he was desperately fighting to stay awake. Fighting and failing, and she had urged him not to fight it. Fighting it would only hurt him, and she didn't know the effects of fighting it. She couldn't know those things. She wasn't a scientist, not really- she dreamed of being a surgeon.

But at that moment, the future didn't matter. All she cared about was being with him, and sitting there with him. The world was perfect, everything seemed perfect. He wasn't like the boys back home- he was smart, he cared about more than just sports, he was thoughtful and they could have real conversations of philosophy and literature and art and the world, and he was just like her. He was special, and he was brilliant, and he was the type of guy who would listen to her. He would appreciate her, if none of the boys back home did.

He looked down at her, his brown eyes deep and pensive- _hollow_, a voice in the back of her mind whispered, but she pushed it away- and he smiled. She grinned at him, for he had really nice eyes. They looked exactly like the type of eyes she would imagine a brilliant genius to have, and she knew exactly how this part was supposed to go. She had been through this dream before, dozens of times before. This was the part where he kissed her.

But all of a sudden he jumped back as if she had bit him. His eyes were no longer as she had seen them before- there was a new alertness, an odd awareness that hadn't been there previously, in any of the dreams. There was a queer expression on his face, divided between shock, fear and confusion. He was scared, scared of her. But why?

"Who are you?" He gasped, confusion lacing his tone and his eyes darting around wildly. Elsa breathed in sharply as the world around her began to waver, seeming almost unstable, like seeing something through water. The dream had been shattered, and reality was creeping in. She didn't want reality in this dream, this was the one dream where she could escape from reality. So then why was he standing and backing up rapidly?

"Wait!" She cried. "You!"

He still appeared confused but was clearly trying to regain his composure. "Who are you?"

"You- you don't-" She stammered, trying and failing to make sense of this. This was her dream. Why was Combeferre resisting her? "You shouldn't be speaking to me!"

Combeferre began backing up slowly as the dream world began to melt around them, running together like raindrops. They both shook as tremors suddenly rocked the ground they stood on, and Elsa nearly fell over. This was wrong, this wasn't supposed to be happening.

Combeferre glanced around in sudden terror, realizing that this may be dangerous for both of them. "I don't understand," he exclaimed, speaking loudly in order to be heard over the noise, just as Elsa cried out fearfully:

"What's happening?"

He shook his head as the world lurched this way and that, nearly throwing both of them off of their feet. "A tremor of some sort, perhaps?"

"But this is a dream!" Elsa exclaimed, giving up on trying to stand and just planting herself firmly on the ground, hands over her head even though nothing was falling. "It's my dream, hereby you shouldn't be saying anything to me and there shouldn't be any earthquake!"

Jesus, he had become sentient. Her dream boyfriend had become sentient. The guy she had been dreaming about almost every single night for two years had actually become sentient and they were actually having a real conversation and she did not feel the urge to tackle him.

She needed to study this.

Combeferre hadn't replied, mostly because his glasses had been jostled off and he was searching desperately for them, being blind as Elsa's grandfather without them. Hereby Elsa took this opportunity to poke him with her foot. He wasn't visibly startled, not being the type to over-react to being poked, but flinched away from her, glad that he at least knew where _she_ was.

"Your glasses," Elsa shouted as a crash sounded from somewhere far off, "Are right by your left hand, about three feet away- you really are sentient, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Combeferre replied, snatching his glasses up off of the ground and placing them on his head, blinking a few times. "Why shouldn't I be? This is my dream."

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, sir," Elsa replied, flinching as the crashing sounds seemed to get closer. The forest and lake and picnic blanket had disappeared, now they seemed to be surrounded by white nothingness on all sides, being thrown back and forth by some great invisible force that never stopped, never allowed them to rest for a moment. There was a monstrous roaring in her ears and she felt her dream quickly giving way into a nightmare.

"How so?"

"This is _my_ dream." All of a sudden, Elsa was thrown to the side by a monstrous force and was sent spinning through the air, seeming to slam into a sort of invisible wall and bounce right back up again. Combeferre followed in a similar fashion, except he managed to brace himself before impact after seeing her be hit.

"It cannot be your dream," he replied, continuing the conversation for lack of anything better to do, seeing as there was no physical pain from hitting the wall, only assuring him further that this was a dream."What I would like to know is how I made the transition here from my previous dream. At first I was studying an exotic moth collection and then I am in a forest with you, whom I have never seen in my life."

"Oh, but you have," Elsa replied as the thunderous boom approached closer and closer to them. "I think we ought to hide now." It felt as if she had been thrown in a dryer and was being spun around manically.

"No where to hide," Combeferre replied, biting his lip as another tremor shook everything.

"Well, if this is your dream, as you insist upon it being, why don't you do something about this?' Elsa shot back, eyes darting around in order to find somewhere, anywhere to take shelter.

Combeferre had thought of that already, of course, and was busy doing just that. How did one control a dream, anyhow? He supposed a dream was some subconscious thought or vision of the mind, so he would have to handle it accordingly. Had anyone ever researched dreams? Someone ought to. He ought to. At any rate, he closed his eyes, really doubting the effectiveness of such an endeavor, and simply willed the world to stop shaking and the thunder to cease.

And to his surprise, it did.

The silence was sudden, the roar fading away completely in seconds and leaving the world feeling strangely quiet. His head was spinning slightly at the sudden respite from the tossing and whirling.

"Well," he panted, taking full advantage of the ability to stand up straight once more and brushing himself off, fixing his glasses and offering the girl a hand. "I suppose this proves that this is my dream."

Elsa frowned, allowing him to help her to her feet. This didn't make sense. "But I'm sentient too, and I'm perfectly in control over my own actions. Besides, this has to be my dream because I've had it so many times. Only, it never ends like this."

He recoiled at that, surprising her. What had she said to- oh.

"I mean, dreams about this place," she lied, staring at the blank whiteness beside his head. She had always told herself that lying was fruitless and shameful, but sometimes one had to do what must be done. "Nice dreams, peaceful. But today you- you started speaking and the whole thing vanished." She looked around in bewilderment. "I don't know where we are now."

"Perhaps," Combeferre suggested, his face taking on a musing expression, "We are in the fabric of a dream, what dreams are actually like without all of the accents and backgrounds. This could be the purity of a dream- or perhaps this is merely a level of the subconscious mind. This could very possibly be just where dreams take place- this is all speculation, mind, but..."

"Fascinating..." Elsa murmured, reaching out and trying in vain to touch the whiteness.

Combeferre, however, was focused on her. She looked vaguely familiar- he should recognize her, he felt that he should. He ran her face through his mind, trying to place her face, place her. He hadn't seen her at the Musain or Corinthe before. She didn't live in his tenement. She wasn't one of Courfeyrac's mistresses. Who was she?

It occurred to him that perhaps she was one of the women, one of the "fangirls". She wasn't the one who kissed Courfeyrac, or the two that he had met with. Then it hit him. This girl looked exactly like the one who had been staring at him, the one who the girl Noelle had restrained. This girl, if she was the same girl, might be the woman who attacked him.

"Who are you?" He asked with a frown. he deemed it best to proceed cautiously- Bridget had said that the group meant no harm, but he couldn't know for sure after the fight.

Elsa, however, was (despite anything that Avielle might say) capable of picking up on social cues, and smart enough to realize that he could recognize her. Thinking quickly, she made up a name for herself that sounded like something he would be familiar with. Hopefully he wouldn't realize who she was.

"Marthe," she nodded her head in a shy sort of greeting, trying to convey on her face the confusion appropriate based on his reception of her. It was important to be meticulous about these things, which was no trouble for her. She couldn't believe that she was meeting Combeferre, _the_ Combeferre, and lying about her name. But really, how cool would _Mademoiselle Goldman_ sound? Yeah, no. "Marthe Challoner."

Combeferre frowned. Perhaps he was mistaken. From what he remembered, none of the women had had names that sounded remotely native, except perhaps Noelle. There was certainly no Marthe Challoner that he could recall and he doubted that he would have missed that name among names such as _Bridget_ or _Marleni._

"Ah," he said, having the decency to look rather ashamed at his greeting. "Forgive me, mademoiselle. I mistook you for someone else." He bowed politely. "René Combeferre, mademoiselle."

She beamed at him, and he noticed how surprisingly white her teeth actually were. How on earth did she get such nice teeth? Nice teeth were such a rarity- not even the royals had them. He remembered that the women Bridget and Maddy had both had rather nice teeth; they smiled so much at them that it was difficult not to notice.

"Pleased to meet you, monsieur," She curtsied as politely as she knew how- in her dream she had pictured herself in everyday normal clothing, but now she found herself wearing an actual nineteenth century dress. "But I'm afraid this does not explain how we may both be sharing the same dream."

At least she was managing to keep her cool- it was hard not to, surrounded by so much peaceful nothingness. Aside from that, she figured that glomping someone while she was technically asleep could only hurt her, seeing as she and Ally had accidentally passed out on each other's beds, meaning that she was on a top bunk, and she could think of no realistically conceivable way that falling off of a top bunk could possibly end well for her.

"Well, mademoiselle, perhaps we have both intruded in each other's dreams; or perhaps I have somehow managed to take over your dream, or I have in some way hijacked your dream and we are now sharing it. Realistically, this seems the most probable, though I do not see how exactly this could be possible."

"Well, this is rather inconvenient for me, I fear. I went to bed late last night, and having someone sharing my dream cannot honestly be very restful for me or for you."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, you may be right. I too fell asleep much later than I normally would; At any rate, I feel that I ought to apologize for intruding on your dream, Mademoiselle Challoner."

"Not at all, Monsieur Combeferre," Elsa smiled, purely ecstatic. She and Combeferre were having a real conversation. This was all she had dreamed about for a whole month, and now here it was- ironically, in a dream, but she was still fairly sure that it was him.

Just then, a booming voice echoed throughout the small white world, causing both of them to clamp their hands over their ears. The voice sounded as if speaking through a tunnel, rather warped and distorted, but it was still unmistakably Courfeyrac's voice.

"Combeferre! It is nine o'clock, yet you are still asleep? This is not like you at all! I would expect after your nap last night, you would be rather well rested, but I suppose I was mistaken."

Combeferre felt the familiar feeling of being detatched from his surroundings, of being pulled from one world into another. "I fear I must go now, Mademoiselle Challoner," he said, and he felt his body actually speaking for Courfeyrac to hear.

"Goodbye," said the woman, and while she might have said more Combeferre did not hear her, as at that moment his eyes snapped open and he found himself gazing at the grinning face of Courfeyrac.

"And who might Mademoiselle Challoner be?"

Combeferre merely shook his head. He did not want to discuss a strange dream with Courfeyrac now. There were much more pressing matters to attend to.

-XXXXXXXXX-

"Hello."

Bossuet's head shot up and he regarded the girl warily. She wore a long purple gown (apparently when you change clothes, the dress changes too) that looked rather expensive, certainly more than Musichetta could afford with her work as a seamstress. He had to blink once or twice at her skin- the alabaster coloring was stunning, and almost resembled the skin of a china doll. She had rather nice hair, tied back in a strange fashion he had never seen before and wasn't quite sure how to describe- he had never been good with hair.

She let herself in to the small cell in which he had been locked in casually, as if she wasn't letting herself in to a _jail cell_. For a moment he feared that she was going to try and kiss him too- he had successfully gotten away from the last one, but hadn't been so lucky the first time and felt rather violated. But then he saw what she was holding- a plate of food, and his eyes lit up. He hadn't eaten for a whole day- this wasn't completely unusual for him, but his body was screaming for food and he was delighted to finally be allowed breakfast.

"Okay," said the girl cheerfully, "Here we have pancakes with maple syrup, orange juice, fresh strawberries, and bacon, since everybody loves bacon. Courtesy of twelve years of cooking for my siblings as a hobby. Say what you want about us, but you can't say we don't feed our prisoners." She handed him the tray, which of course slipped out of his hands. The girl managed to catch the plate before anything spilled, but the juice glass fell to the ground, shattering into a hundred tiny pieces.

"Oh, geez!" She exclaimed in what Bossuet supposed was surprise. He had never heard such an expression before. "That's bad."

"My apologies, mademoiselle," He bent down and began picking up some of the shattered glass, only to cut his finger. He hissed in pain and the girl swatted him away with a sigh. She suddenly held a little packet- he hadn't seen where it had come from, but the girl didn't give him a chance to ask. She grabbed his hand and examined the finger, which was currently producing a small trickle of blood that ran all the way down and began pooling in his palm.

"It's a cut," she muttered softly, tearing open the little packet to reveal a piece of green tape. "That's all. You only need a Band-Aid."

"What is that, exactly?" He asked as she expertly wound the piece of tape around his finger to cover the wound. She smiled at his question, seeming amused for some reason.

"It's a bandage. It keeps out all the infections." She stopped for a second, remembering exactly what she had told her five year old sister Maura when she had inquired as to what a Band-Aid was. Little Maura was always so curious, and Bridget had given her an answer that delighted her. With a grin, Bridget echoed her previous statement to Bossuet.

"When you put it on, it makes the hurt go away. It stops all the bleeding too. It's magic."

Bossuet looked up at her with a small smile. "Clever magic indeed, to cure any injury with such a little thing. Tell me, why have I not heard of such a thing before now? Surely such magic should be world renowned."

"It is, where I come from. I don't think the Band-Aid has come to Paris as of yet. All the rage in America, of course."

"You are American?"

"Irish-American, yes. I'm only visiting Paris."

"With your friends?"

"Yes- you've met several of them already. My friend Ally met you, and then _your_ friend Joly's cane met Ally."

"Ah, yes. I have always advised Joly that a cane, while not the most practical of weapons, may perform decently in a fight." He paused for a moment, seeming hesitant to ask. "Joly is- he is alright?"

"I should hope so," Bridget replied carelessly, frowning at the puddle of juice and shattered glass on the floor. "No way for me to tell, as he isn't here."

"Where is he, then?"

"With Enjolras and the others, still. Although, if you miss him we would be glad to bring him in as well."

"Ah, no," Bossuet replied hastily. The last thing he wanted was to put his friend in possible danger.

"Excuse me," the girl said and quickly exited the room, only to return several seconds later with a broom and another glass of juice. She passed it to him carefully, taking care not to let go until he had a firm grip on it. "You may as well start eating now." She commenced in sweeping up the shattered glass as he began to devour the food ravenously.

"I must say monsieur," she commented as she swept, "You do seem to be taking this whole kidnapping this rather well."

He shrugged, hardly waiting until he had swallowed before responding. "Not much I can do about it from a jail cell, except fight back anytime one of your friends tries to come near me. Besides, you stitched my head up, so I can't figure you have much intention of hurting me." The girl nodded seemingly in agreement with that statement, so he went on. "And it isn't as if this is the first time I was ever abducted."

This got the girl's attention. Her head shot up, thin eyebrows slowly rising towards her hairline. This, Bossuet knew, was not a remark one heard every day. He continued:

"I was out walking one day with an old schoolmate and we were mugged. Well, rather, he was mugged- I had nothing worth taking at the time. Sure enough the gendarmes chose to show up right then and the thug grabs me, knife to my throat. He released me after twenty rather long and uncomfortable minutes. Why, compared to him, your captivity is actually quite relaxing."

An amused smirk settled on the girls face. "Monsieur Lesgles, something tells me that you have many very interesting tales, with your luck." Bossuet nodded, having just finished the bacon and starting on the fruit.

"I'm Bridget, by the way- I don't suppose you've had the chance to catch my name, being rather forgotten yesterday. It's alright- I'm forgotten most of the time too, it's not much of a problem. Anyway, just call me Mademoiselle Bridget. It's simple enough."

There was silence for a time. Finally, as she swept the class into a corner, Bossuet spoke again. "Mademoiselle Bridget, Jehan is here, isn't he? Jehan Prouvaire?"

"Oh, yes. Jehan, he was slightly injured, but he is being well looked after. Not to worry. I'll tell him you were asking about him."

"If you would, mademoiselle." Bridget made her way towards the cell, pulling the door open.

"Oh, by the way," she called over her shoulder, shutting the bars tightly. "The one with black hair and dark skin is easily distracted by shiny objects. If that fails, just keep hitting her over the head with things. She'll go away."

-XXXXXX-

"Sleep well?"

This was the first thing Maddy heard when she opened her eyes to Noelle's smiling face. Her best friend looked slightly amused, and for a moment Maddy couldn't recall why. Then she remembered last night's conversation.

"Yes, actually," she replied, hopping over the edge of the bed without even touching the ladder. "Thanks, Elle." She glanced around, noticing the surprising quiet in the room. "Where is everybody?"

Avi looked down at her from where she lay sprawled out on her bed, hanging upside down over the edge. "Elsa and Ally were gone when I woke up, which was about an hour ago. Left a note, mentioned some sort of emergency concerning _gamines_. Bella's in with Jehan, probably half killing herself trying to get his head right. Bridget made breakfast for Bossuet and Jehan, because they still needs to eat, apparently. Lena's still asleep- concussions wear you out, I guess, even though she doesn't have a concussion anymore-" At this she flung a pillow at Marleni's sleeping figure. "And we're all here. It's only, like, ten AM."

"Oh…" Maddy frowned, wondering if Ally would mind her borrowing one of her outfits. Physically Ally was a bit bigger, but some of Ally's younger sister Kate's stuff sometimes got mixed in with her own clothing, so Maddy could probably find something that fit.

A dense silence fell upon the group, no one speaking- Maddy was not a morning person, Noelle generally didn't talk much and seemed even quieter than usual this morning, and Avi had just talked a lot and was unsure if anything else was needed from her. Eventually, though, she gave in and broke the silence first. "So…. anybody have any interesting dreams?"

Maddy shrugged, not seeming really interested, but Noelle perked up. "Uhh, yeah, actually."

At this, Maddy glanced at her strangely. "What d'you mean, Elle?"

"Umm…." Noelle seemed hesitant to talk about it, but Maddy's inquiring and slightly concerned gaze pushed her to it. "It was a dream… more like a memory, actually… of me, when I was little. Me and Finn, when we were kids."

"A nice dream?"

"No. A nightmare. Well, sort of… no, not really, but yes…. well, in the dream I had a nightmare and I woke Finn up. It was a nice dream for current me about baby me having a nightmare."

Maddy smirked, used to Noelle's disjointed way of explaining her thoughts sometimes. "So, you had a dream about you and Finn."

"Yeah," Noelle muttered, string at the ground. "It just- it kind of got me to thinking…"

"About what?"

"About our families and stuff. I mean, Dad and Finn have got to be wondering where I am. Maddy, your parents must be going nuts, and Avi- your mom must have had a heart attack or something."

Maddy frowned, contemplating this for a moment. She hadn't actually really thought about home or what was going on back there. She sort of figured that it was all taken care of.

"Hey," Avi spoke up, sounding less than sure of herself, "For all we know, we're still frozen in time back at Ally's house. We don't know what's going on back home." She tried to offer them a reassuring smile, but it didn't help.

"It just sort of makes me question the morality of all of this, leaving home and stuff." Noelle sat back down on her bed, her shoulders hunched and hands clasped together tightly. She looked nervous, so Maddy tried to lighten the mood.

"Morals? When have you ever cared about morals?"

Noelle snorted in mock-indignation. "Hey! I have plenty of morals, thank you very much. If anyone doesn't have any morals around here, it's Avi."

Avielle gasped, acting shocked at the accusation, but the obvious good-humor in her voice giving her away. "Well, how rude! I'll inform you, Noelle, that I most certainly do have morals!"

"Oh, yeah? What are they, then?"

Surprisingly, Avielle actually had to think for a moment. What constituted a moral, exactly?

"Fine- I don't dance. There, done."

Maddy raised an eyebrow. "Don't or can't?"

"Can't." Avielle replied without missing a beat.

"Then it doesn't count as a moral. It isn't a conscious choice."

Avielle frowned. That was her moral, it counted. It had to. "Yes it does."

"No it doesn't." Maddy retorted simply, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and grinning. Avielle glared at her teasingly.

"Those are my morals, you crazy fangirl, and they count as much as yours do."

"Oh, come on, Avi!" Noelle laughed. "Not dancing isn't a moral. And trust me, I've seen you dance. You couldn't dance a step, even if you were dancing with a Barricade Boy!"

This made Avielle fall silent. Noelle was right, she realized. She couldn't dance to save her life, and she had never really tried. Would Courfeyrac, whom she knew absolutely adored dancing, like her any less for it? She felt that he already distrusted her, and she worried that she had come off as too brash, too wild at their last meeting. Maybe he thought she was an idiot. Maybe he was still angry with her, even though she had shot his friends _in defense of the other Amigas-_

"Hey, Avi, you okay?" Maddy's voice shattered her thoughts and she looked up sharply.

"Hmm?"

"You sort of… zoned out there, for a second."

"No. I'm fine. I'm good, really."

"Okay," Maddy shrugged. "If you say so."

Avielle nodded, heading for the hole in the ceiling that she had figured how to crawl out of. It was more fun than plotholing, anyway. "I just… need to get out for a while." She started climbing, but Maddy's final words to her echoed in her brain for the next hour.

"Don't do anything stupid out there, Avi."

Why did everyone always seem to think she would do something stupid?

-XXXXXXXX-

Jehan woke the next morning to the smell of breakfast. He found that his head was surprisingly clear and his eyes could actually focus again. His brain didn't feel like it was being crushed in his skull, and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was _her._

"Good morning," She greeted with a bright grin, setting the plate of breakfast on a little table that someone had set up next to the cot.

"Mademoiselle-"

"Isabella," she reminded him gently. "Mademoiselle Isabella is just fine. Remember, we agreed on that yesterday?"

He frowned. He was having a hard time remembering much from yesterday at all, just the conversation in the park and then a soft, soothing voice and a splitting headache that no longer existed now. "Alright, Mademoiselle Isabella," he conceded, eyes wandering around the room.

It was a queer little room, and it reminded him very much of a prison cell. One entire wall was made up of thick metal bars, and he supposed that was how one got in and out. There were no windows and no actual doors. The walls and floor were made of dull, hard stone, and the only real furniture were a small table in one corner of the room, the little table next to him and the cot which he now lay on.

"You slept through the entire night," Isabella informed him. "You hit your head pretty hard, but you're fine now, I made sure of that. My friend Bridget, she made the breakfast- I'm a really crummy cook. It's good food- bacon and pancakes and fruit, real fresh fruit, the good kind. You should like it.

"Thank you." He accepted the food graciously, only now realizing exactly how hungry he was, which he supposed made sense if he hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday morning. But somehow his stomach felt even emptier, almost as if he had absolutely nothing left in it. But that was ridiculous. He hadn't been _sick_...

"Anyway, monsieur," Isabella sighed, pulling a chair that he hadn't noticed before up to his bedside. "I was sort of hoping that we could continue our previous conversation from this morning. It was awfully fascinating, what you were telling me about, politics." She found it amusing how he could go from being rather shy one second to exuberant and nearly raving the next. His sudden bursts of energy reminded er very much of her stepsister. Of course, she wouldn't say that aloud. That could hurt his feelings, and she hated to hurt people's feelings. People should be happy, all the time.

Jehan grinned, mind racing back to the particular conversation, and he regaled her with tales of the 1830 revolution between bites of pancake, which he actually found rather good. He hadn't been there at the time- he had been sixteen in 1830, too young to join the fighting, but most of the other Amis had been, and they had some pretty extraordinary stories.

"And is this king, Louis-Phillipe," she asked when he seemed to finally stop talking, "Really as bad as the last?"

"Not as bad," Jehan replied. "Worse, in some ways, because he was chosen to lead the new republic and he failed us." Isabella looked sympathetic, and Jehan was pleasantly surprised.

"Jehan Prouvaire," she frowned, speaking contemplatively, "You are honestly not what I had expected."

"Is this a bad thing?" He asked her, unaware that she held any expectations of him at all.

"No," she replied slowly. "Not bad. You aren't bad, you're wonderful. But…. I always pictured my Barricade Boy- don't ask- as being a knight in shining armor, who plants flowers and blushes and stuff, a lot like me. I got that, but I wasn't expecting- I wasn't expecting you to be so intelligent, to have such a broad mind and be such a deep, poetic thinker. It's fascinating and wonderful." She beamed at him shyly, as if she was hesitant of what she was saying. "I like you very much, monsieur."

Jehan was not exactly sure how to respond to such a forward statement, so he simply smiled back and they both sat in silence, lost in their own heads. _That_ was another thing that they had in common.

_**AN: Okay, so I need input from you guys. Which Barricade Boy should I kidnap next? There are seven left- Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Joly, Grantaire and Bahorel. You can't say Enjolras, we actually need him back there, and I have other plans for Courfeyrac. So, I've made it in to a poll, on my profile. Go vote, and maybe that Ami will be the next one in the Amigas' clutches!**_

_**Also, Elsa's dream is actually a relatively important plot point that will be explored more in the next chapter. For those of you curious about my schedule- an example, if you will;**_

_**I post today, Wednesday. So then Thursday and Friday I work on the next chapter, which will be posted on Saturday. It's always like that, I'm very strict with myself.**_

_**Love and hugs, Lydia (who is**_** so**_** not evil with this)**_


	15. In which Jehan is romantically confused

"Oh, this isn't normal."

It was really all that Ally could say. She was cranky and overtired, having gotten to sleep at two thirty in the morning. It was now seven, and she had been roused from her sleep by a loud crash from the kitchen.

Upon investigation, she had discovered the entire kitchen a gigantic mess, and the door to one of the wooden cabinets on the ground ajar. Inside, she discovered two rather emaciated young women who looked rather like they would bite if she dared venture too close.

"Who're you?" One of the girls, whose blonde hair looked almost sinfully ratty and who looked half-frightened to death asked with a hiss.

"I'm Ally," said the president, unperturbed. Freaking out was not her style. Punching things- that was easier. "I _live_ here, now. Who exactly are _you_?"

The other girl, seemingly older and looking much nicer, considerably more sure of herself, eyed her suspiciously. "Don't you know who we are?"

"Should I?"

"Some of you- some girls met me yesterday morning. Is this the _Amigas_?"

Ally froze. Oh god. Avielle and Elsa had made Eponine an authoress, and now Eponine was here. And on top of that, it looked as if she had brought a friend. "You're Eponine? Eponine Thenardier?"

"Yes, that's me. This is my sister, Azelma." The blonde girl smiled nervously, with an awkward little wave. She still seemed totally confused.

"Right, then," Ally said, extending a hand to the gamines. "How about getting out from under there? No one here's gonna hurt you, but we do want to talk a bit."

Eponine, who had crawled in to the cabinet in front of her younger sister as if protecting her, pulled herself out on her own, swiftly returning to her feet. Azelma hesitantly allowed Ally to help her out of the tiny cabinet and stood in her sister's shadow, practically clinging to Eponine's arm.

Up close, Ally could actually get a good look at the two sisters, and was quite surprised to find that neither looked very much like she had imagined at all. Mainly, they were both clean, Eponine much more so than Azelma, although Azelma's dress looked brand new, as did Eponine's. Ally assumed that was the result of plotholing.

Eponine was tall and slender, but in a way that looked rather unhealthy, and for good reason. Her face was rather gaunt and her shoulders sharp. Her eyes were an olive green, a shade that Ally found very nice and found herself envying Eponine's eyes over her own dull blue. Eponine, her dark brown hair pinned up elegantly on top of her head, was quite a fine sight, but there was still an air of danger about her. She was still tough, and looked ready for a fight. She was still Eponine, and as such, was not wearing shoes.

Azelma looked even sicklier than Eponine. While the older sister was merely thin, the younger sister seemed frail. She had the appearance of one especially prone to illness, and was glancing around the room like a scared rabbit. In sharp contrast to her pretty dress, her hair hung limply, dirty and tangled. It was a strawberry blondeish color, or Ally supposed it would be should one wash all the grease and grime out of it. The girl looked pale enough to faint, but Ally got the sense that she was always like that.

"Mademoiselles Thenardier," she smiled cordially, plotholing in four wooden chairs suddenly and eliciting a stunned gasp from Azelma, "As president of _Las Amigas de los Miserables_, I welcome you to our base. My name is Ally Harrison, you may call me Ally. Please," she said as she moved the chairs around the table, "Have a seat."

The two girls sat obligingly, Azelma inching her chair closer and closer to Eponine until they were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. "Now," Ally sighed, taking a seat adjacent to them. "There must be a reason for you to have shown up here like this."

"Something's gone wrong," Eponine said, her tone grave. Ally regarded her seriously.

"I'll say it has!" Azelma exclaimed, sounding bewildered, frightened and angry at the same time. "Eponine, what's goin' on? I don't understand!"

"Hush, 'Zelma," Eponine scolded lightly, not tearing her gaze from Ally. "Your friends told me that I ought not to let my parents know about these new power things. Well, they've found out and are planning on using them for themselves."

"They've found out?" Ally exclaimed in alarm. Thenardier was a selfish, greedy man and nothing good could come of this. "How?"

"You went an' told 'em, didn't ya 'Ponine?" Azelma hissed, drawing the other girls' attentions back to her. "Now what's goin' on here, 'cause nobody's tellin' me anythin', and I wanna know." Despite her words, her tone wasn't forceful- more like meek and timid, as if she wasn't used to asserting herself but was trying her best.

"Hush, 'Zelma," Eponine scolded, not tearing her eyes from Ally. The blonde met her gaze firmly, eyes expressing her concern. "What can we do then?"

"Well, you can't go back." Ally's voice was even and decisive, but that did little for the two gamines.

Eponine had problems with that. She had real problems with that, because she couldn't leave her parents. Not that she wouldn't sometimes be happier living on her own, like Gavroche. But Azelma wouldn't leave, and her sister needed her. Besides, mother and father loved them, in their own way, and they didn't physically beat them- maybe her father wasn't the best man in France, but who was? Eponine hadn't left her parents in all this time and had no intention of doing so anytime soon, except, perhaps, for monsieur Marius.

"We can't leave them!" She exclaimed. "That's our home. We live there, and we've got to stay with them."

"But," Ally said reasonably, "Would you rather be used for your new powers? It's not as if this is likely to last forever, and you can just stay with us here, no problem."

"Still don't know what's goin' on." Azelma murmured, not liking the direction that this conversation was headed.

"Hush, 'Zelma- but where will we sleep? We've been here since it was still dark, and we saw all the beds were filled." And such beds, too- Eponine had never seen anything like them. One bed piled on top of another!

"We'll plothole more in," Ally replied dismissively.

"What's a plothole?" Azelma hissed in her sister's ear.

"_Hush_, 'Zelma. And that's it, then? You'll just let us stay here? We'll get free food and everything?"

"You can get your own food. You can do that, you know. We don't need to eat here, but you do, so you can get your own food. We'll get you a bed, too."

"My sister can stay too?"

"Your sister's confused!"

"_Hush, 'Zelma_- can Azelma stay with me? Because I won't stay if she can't, we'll just find somewhere else."

"Yes, yes, of course Azelma can stay with you. I don't see any harm in that- in fact, we could probably even make her an Authoress, if she'd like."

"_I am still in the room_!" Azelma exclaimed loudly. Eponine started to speak, but Azelma stopped her. "I swear, 'Ponine, if you tell me to hush one more time, then I'll… do… somethin'. Now what in hell is goin' on here? This has to be a dream, 'cause floatin' blue lights and beds stacked on top of each other ain't real! What's goin' on 'Ponine, and tell me the truth this time!"

Eponine blinked at her sister, obviously surprised by her uncharacteristic outburst. Azelma bit her bottom lip and blushed. "Well," Ally frowned, "If you really want to know-"

"I really wanna know."

"Okay, your sister has these super cool new magic powers, in which she can move from place to place and summon anything she wants in a moment. Your father wants to use these powers for his own personal gain, but you probably already got that."

"I'm going to use it to get M'sieur Marius to fall in love with me," Eponine added proudly, grinning at her sister. Ally saw that she had done very little for her teeth, and resolved to remind her later. "What do you think?"

Azelma blinked at them, head cocked to the side. She looked as if she wasn't sure exactly what to think, not that anyone could blame her.

Luckily, she didn't have to think for long, because just then Elsa wandered in to the kitchen, rubbing her bleary eyes. Her dark hair was a tangled mess from moving in her sleep. "Ally-" she began, seeing her friend first, but cut herself off abruptly upon seeing the two gamines.

"Eponine!" She exclaimed in surprise, straightening her slumped posture and quickly running her hands down through her hair once in an effort to look presentable. "When I said you would be welcome here, I wasn't expecting you to come to call so soon."

"Yes," Eponine sighed, "But it seems that we've run in to a bit of a problem. Our father."

Elsa's face fell, and she didn't even bother to try to act surprised. "Of course. Thenardier." When was it ever anyone else?

"Who're you?" Azelma asked softly, still looking a bit lost.

Elsa's eyes snapped to her. "Oh, hello Azelma. What brings you here?"

"'Ponine."

"Ah. Well, then. Hi." Elsa obviously was uncomfortable being seen after just waking up, so Ally cut in.

"Elsa, why don't you go get dressed? I'm sure the Thenardier siblings have a few questions that I could answer." Elsa nodded hastily, casting a grateful glance at Ally before hurrying away, leaving the three other girls at the table. "Sorry 'bout her," Ally smiled fondly at the empty doorway. "She's kind of shy sometimes, especially when her hair's a mess."

"Mmm, we wouldn't know," Eponine shrugged, wondering faintly what it would be like to be allowed to be vain about your hair. She knew her own hair was typically a mess, but she couldn't help but be a bit proud of how it looked right then. "Anyway, we do have some questions for you."

"Ask away."

"Monsieur Marius- he falls in love with Cosette? The same Cosette from when I was a child, at the inn?"

Ally nods, leaning forward on the table as if she was sharing a big secret. "Yes, the exact same Cosette who was given to your parents care, back in the days when they owned _The Sergeant at Waterloo_. She was brought by her mother's… friend, to a convent, where she was educated. They have left, and are currently living at _Rue De_L'_Homme Arme_, number seven."

"She rich?"

"Very. Big fat dowry for when she gets married."

Eponine sat back, shoulders slumped. The stupid lark. She was better than her by far, even if her teeth were rotten and her hair was gnarled. Eponine was supposed to be the pretty one, she was supposed to be the one that Marius loved. Not _the lark_ of all people, with her stupid rag doll and her ratty clothes. Cosette had been such an ugly child; Eponine had been beautiful, or so her mother said.

"That's alright, though," Ally continued. "Most of us here really dislike Cosette. The only people who like her are Elsa and Isabella, who you'll meet later. The rest of us believe in you and Marius together forever." She smiled and leaned back in her chair as she said this, moving her hands to rest in her lap. Eponine frowned, and Azelma squeezed her sister's arm tightly.

"How d'you know us?" Azelma asked in a soft, cautious tone. Ally was unfazed.

"We know everything," she replied simply. "The past, the present… the future."

The sisters frowned, clearly not understanding her meaning, so Ally felt obliged to elaborate. "We know what's happened to you in your past, what's going on in your lives right now, and what will happen to you in the future.

"What will happen to us?" Azelma asked in a small voice, curiosity getting the better of her.

"Azelma, you and your father will move to America and get rich off of the slave trade there. The slave market will crash in eighteen sixty with an American civil war, so I'm not sure where you'll be then."

"And me?" Asked Eponine, fearing that she already knew the answer from her previous conversations with the girls.

Ally fell silent, taking good care not to look at either gamine. She seemed not to want to speak, and for a long time she remained quiet. The sisters did as well; the silence grew heavy and burdening. Finally, Ally spoke softly but certainly.

"You die, in June. On a barricade. You die in Marius' arms after giving him a letter from Cosette that you hid from him. You confess your love to him before you die and he kisses you on the forehead before nearly dying with the rest of his 'friends'."

Eponine didn't speak for a long time. Azelma closed her eyes, looking quite pale, but Eponine just didn't say a word. She kept her gaze firmly on the blonde fangirl, who felt rather uncomfortable.

"That can't be," she said suddenly. "Marius wouldn't be on any barricade. Why should he? He ain't a revolutionary, like his friend what's-his-name."

"Courfeyrac," Ally supplied. "And he goes to the barricades because you lure him there, to die together."

There was another rather heavy silence, all three girls contemplating Ally's words.

Eponine didn't want to die. She was only seventeen- her birthday had just passed. She was too young, and to die in Marius' arms only for him to love another…

Azelma just didn't want her sister to die, period. Eponine looked out for her and was her best friend. She needed Eponine, and she wasn't sure what would become of her if 'Ponine died.

Ally just felt sort of bad that she had just broken such traumatic news to the girl. Ally wasn't an empathetic person in any sense of the word- one of the things that differed her from Enjolras, who felt the people's pain and suffering everywhere he went. Ally didn't fully comprehend how much this hurt Eponine, but she knew it did hurt and felt bad about it.

Finally Elsa returned and took a seat at the table next to Ally. She didn't speak at first, worried that she was interrupting a tense moment, but seeing as everyone appeared lost in their own minds at the moment, she tentatively reached out and touched Azelma's hand. The girl jumped and looked up at her in surprise.

"How about we get you cleaned up, hmm?" Elsa whispered softly to her. "I can plothole a nice dress for you, and you can wash your hair. Is that alright?"

Azelma looked up at her sister hesitantly, but Eponine merely nodded at her. Azelma studied Elsa for a long moment before standing and following the dark haired girl out of the room.

Ally and Eponine still didn't move.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Bridget was quite alarmed when she returned from giving Bossuet his breakfast. She had left her notebook on top of her pillow, as she had gotten in to the habit of doing. It was a rather fancy notebook, spiral bound with a neon pink and green cover, thus it was easy to recognize on the cream colored pillow. Except this morning, her precious notebook, filled with all of her earthly secrets, desires and dreams, was gone.

Bridget panicked. There was really no other realistic reaction for her to have. She had owned that notebook for a little over three months, and it was already almost full. It was there that she scribbled down her fanciful stories to tell her five little siblings, her inner thoughts that she didn't dare say out loud (not that she ever said much at all), even sometimes her dreams. She had in that book sketches, poetry, journals, notes- her entire life.

And it was gone.

She scrambled around the room frantically, first interrogating Noelle and Maddy, who seemed stunned and really didn't seem to have much to do with the situation. She woke Marleni, who blearily answered her manic questions and denied ever seeing the notebook. Bridget knew that it couldn't have been Ally or Elsa- they were both out of bed before she took out the notebook and, according to Maddy, hadn't been back since. Noelle and Maddy both said that Avielle hadn't touched it. That left only one person.

But, it couldn't be. Could it?

-XXXXXXXX-

Isabella slowly opened the spiral notebook on her lap, taking care not to bend any of the pages as she did so. This notebook wasn't hers, and she didn't want to injure it before she could get it back to its owner.

"What is that?" Jehan asked over his juice glass, noticing the vibrant pink color. He was fairly certain that he had a cravat just that color.

"Oh, it's a notebook," Isabella replied casually, viciously extinguishing any semblance of guilt from her thoughts. Bridget wouldn't mind. How could she? Bridget was always so understanding about stuff, and while Bella admittedly should have asked first, Bridget was her friend. She wouldn't really get angry with her, would she? Besides, Bridget was so good at writing- she had shared a poem with Isabella once that she thought absolutely appropriate for the occasion, and she wanted to share it with Jehan before…

"This is a poem," Isabella announced, holding up the book for him to see. "It's my friend Bridget's- she wrote this and I wanted you to hear it, since you like poetry so much."

She took a deep breath, cleared her throat and read:

"_**Freedom is an abstract**_

_**Perhaps a mere word**_

_**A concept**_

_**Freedom may exist only in the minds and hearts of those who believe**_

_**Or it may be just a fleeting thought, a passing emotion.**_

_**But freedom has a meaning**_

_**To those lost in the darkness**_

_**To those shivering in the street**_

_**To those confined to a cell**_

_**To them, freedom is more than just an abstract**_

_**Freedom is tangible, realistic**_

_**A reality that effects the heart, mind, soul**_

_**All at once**_

_**A picture**_

_**Of happiness and joy**_

_**Of belonging and feeling**_

_**Of love, perhaps**_

_**A feeling which is so great in its emotion**_

_**That one heart alone cannot hold it.**_

_**And thus freedom is spread**_

_**Far and wide**_

_**Across mountains and oceans,**_

_**Deserts and plains,**_

_**In to the darkest shadows**_

_**Until freedom becomes less of a concept**_

_**And forever a reality."**_

Jehan smiled softly after the poem was done. He seemed as if he liked it, so Isabella sighed in relief.

"That was beautiful," said Jehan quietly. "Enjolras would really like it. The usage of words were just lovely, and it's exactly what my friends and I strive for- the entire world to know what freedom is. Tell your friend that she is immensely talented."

Isabella beamed, and Jehan noticed how her smile lit up her entire face. He decided at that moment that it was Isabella's smile made her beautiful. She was physically quite pretty, he acknowledged, with her long brown hair and skin that had a slight dark tint to it, and glorious chocolate brown eyes that sparkled when she was happy, but it was her smile that made her face. It showed her inner youth, revealing joy and good humor. He could picture her with that smile on her face sitting in the middle of a garden, next to a blossoming rose bush, a little flower in her lap. He smiled even wider at the thought.

Isabella noticed that he had wandered in to his own mind again and lightly touched his shoulder, jolting him back to reality. "Ah, my apologies, mademoiselle."

"Oh, no." Isabella shook her head, inwardly deliberating whether this was the time or not. There was no sign of anyone coming down the row of prison cells any time soon, and the couple happened to be hidden from view from everyone else, so it had to be now.

Yet she didn't want to do it here, in a prison cell. That was a bad idea. Doing what she had in mind in a prison cell? A paradox, possibly… A folly, certainly, for they were at this very moment being filmed. No, to do this they would have to leave the cell. But where could they go?

The kitchen. It was the only option, even though they would be far more likely to be discovered there. From the sound of it, Ally and whoever she was with had taken their leave some time ago to who knows where. The kitchen would be the best place.

She stood suddenly, grabbing his hand and pulling him up just as he set the glass down on the table. "What is it?" He exclaimed in surprise. She shook her head.

"Nothing, but I want you to come with me. This is important."

He didn't protest, even as she led him by hand out of the cell and shut the door behind them with a hollow metallic clang. She led him to a door right next to the cell, but by glancing behind him he saw a long row of cells identical to his.

Opening the door, they emerged into an odd room with wooden cabinets and a large table in the center of the room, surrounded by four little wooden chairs. "What is this place?" He asked her softly, studying the tiled floor at his feet. "Do you live here?"

"Yes," said Isabella, sounding rather nervous. "I do now, apparently." He was about to ask her what she meant, but was not given the chance.

"Jehan, you enjoyed that poem, correct?" She sounded rather earnest, so he nodded.

"Well, that poem was about freedom, and how it is important.

"It certainly is."

"Exactly. That's why I'm going to give you yours, right now."

The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Neither dared move, gazes locked with each others. Jehan's gaze was questioning, apprehensive and slightly worried. Isabella's gaze, however, was guilty and fearful.

"You have to leave," she said at last, shifting her gaze to his chest to avoid looking him in the eye any longer. "I've kept you from them for as long as I could, and I don't _think _anyone would try to touch you, but… Jehan, dear, I'm… I'm afraid that I've simply grown too fond of you."

"What do you mean?" He asked at last. "Mademoiselle Isabella, what is wrong? Who are 'they'?"

"It isn't important," she murmured softly. "You just don't deserve to be pent up her like an animal. Not you, Jehan. You don't deserve this anymore than you deserve dying on a pile of furniture. You, Jehan, deserve to be out in the world, watching clouds and planting flowers and fighting for a new republic. That's what you deserve, and I want you to have that, not for you to be locked up here for who knows how long. So that's why I'm letting you go, Jehan."

"I don't understand, Mademoiselle Isabella." Jehan started to back up in order to give her more space, but she grabbed his hand again and pulled him close.

"That's fine. You don't have to." She took a deep breath, her thin face growing pale. She looked into his eyes and decided that she would have to distract him in order to get him out of here, and there was only one surefire way of doing that which she would happily comply with. But would he?

"If I may… Jean Prouvaire, you are awfully handsome." She smiled coyly, trying to keep in mind that this was for helping Jehan, not for her own personal pleasure.

Jehan frowned, and for one horrible moment Isabella feared that he would throw her aside, call her crazy or a whore. This was hardly appropriate nineteenth century behavior. But then he smiled, his soft, welcoming smile, and blushed. He was confused, certainly, but he already knew that this woman wasn't much like others.

However, nothing could have prepared him for the moment when she looked up shyly, staring into his blue eyes, and breathed three words that completely took him off guard.

"If I may?"

His mouth dropped open and his first instinct was to back away, to get away from this woman, so open and immodest and odd, perhaps a whore or something of the sort. But he stopped himself, reminding himself that such a thing could hardly be considered gentlemanly, and that Isabella wasn't indecent, from what he knew of her.

And in the back of his mind, there was still the little naggling thought that maybe he wouldn't mind kissing her- just this once.

He nodded, barely imperceptible, but it was there and that was all that Isabella was looking for. She smiled, and a wave of powerful relief seemed to overcome her, her shoulders slumping and her nervous expression melting into a grin before she pulled him down and pressed her lips to his.

His eyes widened, and he nearly pushed her back before he realized, to his shock, that he actually didn't mind this. In fact, he was actually enjoying the kiss, the gentle feel of her lips upon his and the feel of her hands on the back of his head, keeping him level with her. Almost involuntarily, he found himself relaxing into the kiss and responding, eyes closing of their own accord.

Isabella was in ecstasies. For years, she had dreamed of the moment when she would kiss Jehan, her knight in shining armour, her poet, her prince. In that moment, she was his and he was hers and as he leaned in and kissed her back she felt rapturous. For once, despite what her mother or father or anyone said, she was actually worth something, and worth something to the one person she most wanted to be worth something to. His kiss was everything that she had imagined it would be, and she felt special in his embrace, and as she leaned forward in to him and he stepped backwards into the plothole she had created behind him, she knew that they were safe now and that she should stop, but she didn't want to.

A part of Jehan's mind registered the breeze blowing their hair, whipping their sleeves around, and that part of him couldn't understand any part of this, why there was a breeze indoors or why this woman that he hardly knew was kissing him or why he was _letting her_, and definitely not why he was actually enjoying it. But that part of his mind didn't matter, not when his heart was racing and his skin was crawling at her gentle touch. His poetic side was in control now, and it was that part that made him understand why this girl had been on his mind so much.

The girl intrigued him. She fascinated him, and somehow delighted him. He found her strange but charming, a girl who could read such material yet did not seem to be of any higher class than a peasant, a girl with the voice of an angel and the smile of a goddess. A girl kissing him, right then, for reasons that he couldn't explain. He wondered if this was how it felt, how Joly and Musichetta felt, or Bossuet and Musichetta, or even Joly and Bossuet. Was this what it felt like to love someone? How did you really know when you loved someone?

And then suddenly she was gone, forcibly tearing herself away from him and taking off, vanishing like a phantom behind a building before he could even call after her. Her long hair flew behind her, expelling a silky hair ribbon that flapped in the breeze and nearly flew right past Jehan before he caught it. And he found himself standing, alone aside from three curious gamins watching the show, behind a building, and he could not for the life of him explain how exactly they had gotten there.

What had just happened? He wasn't exactly sure, but all that he knew was that he almost enjoyed it, and that was bad. He was only eighteen- he shouldn't have enjoyed kissing Mademoiselle Isabella, but he did. He could recall flashes- gentle hands holding his hair back as he was sick into a bucket, a soft voice singing a lullaby, another crooning melody and the light rhythm of hands rubbing his back soothingly, and he knew it had to be her. This girl, who was as gentle as a summer day and as beautiful as a flower (a rose, he thought absently) had invaded his thoughts in a way that frustrated him and confused him but in some small way delighted him.

"Your girl lost 'er ribbon," one of the children, a small girl with light hair, observed.

"Y'oughta give it back to 'er," a dark haired boy added.

Jehan nodded. Give it back to her. He would do just that, he decided, tucking the ribbon in his pocket. He would because that was proper of him.

It had nothing to do with his personal feelings whatsoever.

**AN: Just so you guys know, this story is taking place pretty much using the same timeline as the musical, but set in bookverse- if that makes sense. So Eponine would not know Cosette at this point.**

**Sorry if that got too lovey at the end, but Bella/Jehan is the main pairing here along with Avi/Courf, so I just wanted to introduce this and it's three in the morning and I'm in a really Romantic mood. Also, sorry for the late update, my personal life has been sort of going to hell the past few days. Love you all for your wonderful reviews- I'm extending the voting period, so someone else will be kidnapped next chapter. -Lydia**


	16. In which Javert's suicide is ruined

For what seemed like an hour, Maddy, Noelle and Marleni eyed the girl sitting in the middle of the floor. Her wary green eyes stared back at them nervously, and all three friends wondered exactly why Elsa had just dumped her with them.

Her clothes hung off of her as if they were too large, but the girl was simply too underfed. Elsa had found her a nice dress, a vibrant pink color with purple and blue flowers that Marleni absolutely adored. The girl looked slightly bewildered at the dress, as if she wasn't accustomed to anything like it. it wasn't like any nineteenth century dress, that was for sure.

Finally, maybe out of more admiration for the outfit than anything else, Marleni spoke.

"Hello," she chirped from her perch on her bunk. "What's your name?"

The girl shivered despite the pleasant temperature of the room and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair looked as if someone had violently ran a brush through it a few dozen times, and it showed by the way it frizzed out slightly. "I'm Azelma," she said in a low, soft tone. "Who're you?"

Maddy jumped from her top bunk, gracefully landing in a crouch. "Wait," she asked, straightening up and giving the newcomer an incredulous look. "Azelma Thenardier?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, that's so cool!" Maddy exclaimed with a bright grin. "I have a fanfiction about you!" She bounded over like an excited puppy, grabbing Azelma's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "I'm Maddy, Maddy Nguyen."

Azelma slowly twisted her hand out of Maddy's vice-like grip. "Hi."

"I'm Noelle Piatek," volunteered Noelle quietly from her seat on the floor, stretched out of the pink carpet.

"And I'm Marleni," the last fangirl piped up with a tiny wave.

Azelma smiled uncertainly and all but Maddy had the decency not to wince at her rotting teeth. Noelle slapped her arm and Maddy jumped, mind racing.

At that moment Maddy, whose mental deliberations are always _extraordinarily_ fascinating, was thinking. Maddy was not really a thinker, not at all. She was more of an action person, but at that moment she was actually thinking. Her thoughts were something along the lines of this: little Azelma was skittish, her face was thin, her eyes were hollow, her teeth were a mess, her hair really needed help- actually, at that point Maddy figured that cutting it all off and giving her a wig would be the best option.

And in Maddy's mind, all that equaled a challenge, and a hard one. _This_ was going to be fun.

"Noelle," Maddy said suddenly, leaving her friend to stare up at her in bewilderment. Maddy grinned devilishly and bit down on her lower lip, sharp incisors cutting into flesh and causing tiny crimson beads to appear on her mouth. "What do you say to taking on a project?"

Noelle blinked, not quite sure what to say, but Marleni beamed. "Sure! You can be our new project 'Zelma! Oh, can I call you 'Zelma?"

Azelma shrugged her thin shoulders and Noelle winced. "I s'pose."

"Great!" Maddy exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. She grabbed both of Azelma's hands, tugging her to her feet. Azelma tried to pull away, but Maddy had a death grip.

Recognizing the gamine's discomfort, Noelle placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright."

These simple words only slightly comforted Azelma, but it did convince her not to struggle as she was led through the plothole by the people her sister had told her to trust. And if Eponine had said they were trustworthy, well, then that was that.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Avielle was lost.

This wasn't unusual for her, seeing as she had a tendency to just wander off and not really mind where she was going. Sightseeing in Paris was certainly interesting, even without the Eiffel Tower, so she had gone wandering, being careful to avoid the more dangerous streets. She had been approached by a burly, rather scary looking man holding a knife, but she had just taken off running and the large man's weight worked against him, causing him to run slower than her. Avielle escaped very easily and continued wandering with little to no thought on where she would end up.

That is, until she saw a place that she recognized.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Courfeyrac was supposed to be and school. And he would have liked to have been, really. The problem was he was far to busy for law school that day.

Enjolras had wanted to meet first thing in the morning, but unfortunately for him some of the Amis actually attended classes; namely Combeferre, Joly and Jehan. Enjolras attended whenever he wasn't to busy working himself half to death, Bahorel wouldn't set foot in a university if his life depended on it, Bossuet got kicked out again, Feuilly couldn't afford it and honestly no one was really sure if Grantaire was even a student.

Courfeyrac had been up most of the night with Enjolras and Combeferre. It had taken both Joly and Combeferre about half an hour to wake up from their comas. Joly, groggy and disoriented, had been escorted back to his apartment by Bahorel, who then eagerly retreated to his own home to sleep off an headache. Combeferre, however, had been eager to discuss the night, so Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac had retreated back to Enjolras' apartment. Enjolras, for his part, was outraged and seemed more determined than ever to stop these girls.

Combeferre was a bit more levelheaded about the situation. he convinced Enjolras to examine what they had learned based on what Combeferre remembered, and the three spoke of strategy until nearly two in the morning, when they had all fallen asleep in Enjolras' apartment.

Enjolras had gone off to do who knows what, and so Courfeyrac had left Combeferre at the university and had gone wandering. This was quite unusual for him, as he was typically content to go out with friends when feeling unsettled. Company soothed him, and he knew that Bahorel would be available if he simply went looking for him. But for some reason, on that particular day Courfeyrac had chosen to wander about the city, straying far from his familiar haunts until he found himself near the Seine.

He wasn't terribly pleased with his present location and had just elected to retreat to the Corinth when he spotted a familiar head of curls up a head. A figure in a long dress, unsteadily balancing as she walked along the side of a bridge.

For a moment he merely blinked, not exactly sure what to make of the strange sight before him before it fully dawned on him that the girl he had met last evening was quite possibly about to fall to her death in the Seine.

He didn't run towards her or cry out, knowing that if she was alarmed then she could quite easily lose her precarious footing. Up close, he realized that she was laughing to herself and he caught several strains of a soft melody she sang (something about stars).

Suddenly she spun around to face him. Startled at the sight of him, she fell backwards, suddenly a whirl of flailing limbs and flyaway hair. He reached out to her, grasping her by the arm and tugging her over the side. She landed in front of him, looking winded but greeted him with a wide grin. "The devil!" He exclaimed. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

The girl, however, didn't seem in the least alarmed. She smiled brightly. "Hey there, Monsieur Courfeyrac. Nice catch, huh? I guess you remember me- Avielle, from last night."

"You are not exactly an easy figure to forget," Courfeyrac replied wryly. He noted that she wore the same purple dress from the previous night, not stained and torn from the dank alley and the ascent of the Musain. She snorted, a lopsided grin spreading across her face. She attempted to explain herself.

"I was re-enacting Javert's suicide scene, except I can sing _Stars _better so I did that one. Pretty neat, huh?" She pushed her long hair back so that it didn't fall over her shoulders and met his gaze as he studied her.

He stared for a moment or so, and she stared back with a raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk. Finally she spoke, her voice light with mirth.

"Why monsieur, why do you study me so? I am the same as I was yesterday afternoon or yesterday evening. What do you aim to determine by observing me now?" She laughed brightly. "Are you just enjoying the view?"

Courfeyrac smirked, once again feeling inexplicably lighthearted in her presence. "I study you because you puzzle me, mademoiselle."

"Good. That's what I aim for."

"At least you have a clear ambition."

"What, you think I'm this nutty for nothing?"

Teasing each other momentarily distracted Courfeyrac, but he grew serious again, or at least as serious as he could get. "That is terribly dangerous, you know. You shouldn't do such things."

Avielle shrugged, leaning against the side of the bridge nonchalantly. "Maybe I'm just terribly foolish. I thought it would be fun."

"Even when you very nearly fell to your death?"

"That was fun too."

He stared at her incredulously. "You nearly die and you call that fun?"

"Well, you wouldn't know whether it was fun or not, would you? You weren't up there. Feel free to try it." She laughed at his expression. "I'm kidding."

"I never would have been able to tell," he replied. Avielle grinned.

"Now you got it!" She bounced up to him and took hold of his arm. "It's about eleven right now. You eaten anything? 'Cause I haven't, and I'm starved. How about brunch? If you know a good place, I'll pay."

He frowned, raising an eyebrow. She was carrying money on her? It was dangerous enough for a young woman to walk around unaccompanied in Paris, especially in an area like this, and carrying money no less- she could be mugged, killed even. He shook his head. The girl was foolish. "Why would you be walking around unaccompanied?"

She laughed loudly with a shake of her head, brown curls bouncing. "Silly little boy! No mugger could get within thirty feet of me! I'd have him on the ground faster than you could blink!"

He smiled at her in spite of himself. Typically he would scoff at the idea of a young woman being able to take on a well-armed convict, but after seeing her climb that wall last night, he wasn't sure. He felt once again as if her own good humor had somehow infected him. The girl skipped gaily at his side, chattering on endlessly. Having a giddy young woman at your arm, Courfeyrac found, did little to nurture a foul mood. He soon found himself chatting just as animatedly as they walked to one of his favorite haunts, a pleasant little cafe which served good food and better wine.

-XXXXXXXXXXX-

Jehan walked to the Musain around noon, figuring that more than likely someone he knew would be there. he figured that his friends would be worried about him, and he wanted to let them know that he was alright.

Upon entering, he found, to his surprise, the whole of the Amis clustered in the back room. Bahorel and Joly lounged in chairs, absorbed in some sort of domino game. Enjolras and Combeferre were discussing something intently near the fireplace, and Feuilly was sitting off to the side looking strangely pale.

It was Joly who noticed him first. "Jehan!" he exclaimed with a incredulous smile. "You're here!"

Combeferre stood up from his seat. "Prouvaire! We were concerned."

"Where were you?" Enjolras demanded. "Are you alright?" His voice was stern but his eyes betrayed his concern.

Jehan smiled somewhat sheepishly. How could he explain what had happened when he barely remembered himself? The last thing he really remembered was Mademoiselle Isabella (he wondered if that title was too formal given recent events) screaming and then something connecting with his head, knocking him down. He couldn't even remember what had hit him. "Ah, yes. Interesting story, really. You see, I met this charming young woman in the park near my apartment, and we were conversing when somehow I hit my head. Apparently I was in rather bad condition, so the young woman kindly took me back to where she lives and she nursed me back to health. I'm quite fine now, though, so no need to worry."

Combeferre placed a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him over to a chair in front of Enjolras. Enjolras stood in front of the chair and studied Jehan's face carefully. "Did they hurt you?"

"What? No, certainly not. She helped me."

Enjolras frowned at the use of she, singular. He would focus on that later. "Did they... umm... did they..." Exasperated, he merely gestured to Combeferre, who quickly took over for him.

"Jehan, did they attempt to touch you in any way? Kiss you?"

Jehan was confused. "No. Well- What do you mean? I don't understand-"

"_Did they attempt to rape you_?"

Bahorel always could be counted on to get to the point. Feuilly buried his head in his arms with a small moan, but no one really noticed him. He didn't speak much anyway, so that was alright.

"What? No!"

"Alright then, that's all we needed to know." Combeferre's calm, even voice placated Jehan, who couldn't for the life of him understand why his friends were acting so odd. Why would Mademoiselle Isabella try- wait.. had she?

"Feuilly, are you alright?" Joly asked suddenly, noticing the other man's pallor. Feuilly raised his head and blinked.

"Whatever was in that drug they used made me sick," he muttered. "I was throwing up all last night and I feel like hell." Joly immediately began to check him over, asking questions in a low voice. Feuilly shook his head at some and nodded at others. Joly's brow creased as he stood up. Enjolras raised an eyebrow and Joly went up to him, speaking only loud enough for Enjolras and Combeferre to hear.

"Possible side effects of the drug. Hopefully it'll wear off soon, but if not then..." Enjolras frowned. Joly rarely even misdiagnosed his friends, only himself. If he said Feuilly was sick- he glanced up at the workman, who had buried his head in his hands again. He approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Feuilly, go home. You ought to sleep."

The other man shook his head, brown eyes seeming unusually watery. "I'm fine, Enjolras, just a bit worn down."

"Sick," Enjolras said firmly. "It won't do for you to pass out here. Go home." His tone was forceful enough that Feuilly left with little protest, almost forgetting his cap in his dazed state.

Combeferre frowned and joined Enjolras. "You sent him home?"

"The man looked half-dead. I had to."

Combeferre nodded, obviously approving of the decision. He glanced around the room then, with a raised eyebrow. "And where are the others?"

Enjolras frowned. "We're missing Courfeyrac and Grantaire." He suddenly looked up at his friend in alarm. "You don't think-"

"I'm not sure what to think." Combeferre replied somewhat ironically. "They let Jehan go, for some strange reason."

"And yet they keep Bossuet."

Combeferre shuddered, not wanting to imagine what had become of poor Bossuet. "If one of the others has been taken- Jehan was safe, perhaps the rest would be too."

"When did you last see them?"

"Grantaire I saw last night, same as you. Courfeyrac left me to my classes and I haven't seen him since. Knowing both of them, they could just be wandering off somewhere, flirting with some girl."

Enjolras frowned. "Still," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the three other Amis, who were watching them curiously. "I don't like it."

_**AN: HAPPY BARRICADE DAY! Literally have been worrying myself sick (fever, headache, rage) over finishing this chapter on time, so- for barricade day. Here's to our fictional amis, and the brave, real life young men who went to their deaths at the barricade so many years ago today.**_

_**Today Mabeuf, Bahorel and Eponine died, Jehan I think too.**_


	17. In which people wander aimlessly

"There he is!" Ally exclaimed, pointing up ahead at the man slowly exiting a tenement. "That's him."

"Monsieur Grantaire? That's him?" Eponine asked, eyeing the drunkard critically. Both she and Ally were effectively concealed from view, thanks to Eponine. Living in the shadows had it's perks.

"Yep." Ally grinned at her, exposing two rows of cream colored teeth that Eponine felt a sharp pang of jealousy over. Nevermind, she told herself. She could have teeth like that soon enough.

"Now," Ally spoke in a low whisper that only Eponine could hear, "We're going to convince him to come back to base with us. He's basically the original Enjolras fanboy, and so what better place for him than with us?" She had an odd sort of light in her eyes around the drunkard. Ally knew that Grantaire was possibly the only person in the world who understood her pain of being passionately in love with Enjolras.

She breathed sharply as he closed the door behind him. "Go!" She exclaimed, and they both stepped out of the shadows.

"Hey, you!" Eponine cried, and Grantaire spun around abruptly. The first person he saw was Ally, and he recognized her immediately.

"You!" He exclaimed, and as Ally took a step towards him he took a step back. Unfortunately, he stepped back a bit too far and hit the door, bouncing off of it and falling down the stairs.

"Ah, god!" Ally shrieked as he fell in a heap. "Why does this always happen?"

"How often does this happen?" Eponine asked pointedly.

"Too often. It's becoming a habit. Should you go tell Elsa to have a cell ready, or shall I?"

Eponine volunteered to go, eager to get away from the passed out drunk. Upon returning back to base, she found Bridget's bed completely torn apart, but the fangirl herself nowhere to be found. Elsa sat at the table with a large book on her lap, thumbing through the pages with a pensive epression on her face. She looked up at the gamine.

"Oh. Hey, Ponine."

"Monsieur Grantaire is passed out."

Elsa stared at her for a few seconds, eye twitching, before standing violently. "God freaking dammit! Ally and I talked about this!" She took a moment, seeimg to regain her composure. "How?" She asked in a dangerous voice.

"He hit the wall and fell down some stairs."

Elsa blinked.

"How does that even happen?!"

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Grantaire woke up in a prison cell.

"God damn it."

This wasn't the first time, honestly. He figured that he must have gotten really drunk last night and passed out on the streets somewhere. He should have know not to walk home alone- he could recall leaving the Musain late last night.

At once he remembered the meeting and was startled into sitting up. He realized that there was no familiar pounding in his head to signify a hangover. Well, not any more than usual, certainly not enough of a hangover to have caused him to pass out.

"Oh, morning," a girl greeted casually, entering his cell with an icepack. "Well, afternoon now. Good thing you're awake. You smacked your head pretty hard."

Grantaire drew back against the wall, balling one hand into a fist. "You. You're one of those girls, aren't you- the Amigas?"

The girl nodded, her face solemn. Grantaire's expression hardened and he rose to his feet."How did I get here?"

The girl shrugged, tossing him the icepack. "It wasn't our fault, really. Two of us- Ally and Eponine, they tried to approach you earlier this morning, but you started and tripped. You fell down a few stairs, and you were unconscious for a bit- hence the icepack." She almost smiled but covered it up quickly. "I must say, you certainly captured Eponine's interest."

Grantaire cocked his head, recognizing the name suddenly. "Eponine? The girl who follows Pontmercy around?"

"Yep." The girl nodded and then did something quite odd. She seemed to toss her hair over her shoulder- except her dark hair was pinned up tightly on top of her head. She didn't seem to notice the difference, but Grantaire certainly did.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"You adjusted your hair where there was none. Why?"

She looked at him strangely, almost apprehensively. "I did nothing of the sort," she replied stiffly, almost sounding like Enjolras. Grantaire started to protest, but the girl was hurrying out of the room, with a short glance over her shoulder. "My name is Elsa," she said, slipping out of the cell and shutting it firmly behind her. "Someone will be in to explain in a bit. In the meantime, I suggest you contemplate Enjolras for awhile. Trust me, you'll want to."

And then she was gone. Grantaire settled back on the cot with a frown, wishing he had a drink. He was far too sober for this.

What had she meant, contemplate Enjolras? Not that that was a problem, as that was almost all of what Grantaire did- not that he would ever be worthy of Enjolras, of course- but the way she had said it unnerved him.

He would be damned before he allowed anyone to lay a finger on Apollo.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Bridget darted between people passing through the streets. No one stopped for the small girl- no one even noticed her. Accidently trodding on a lady's slippered feet, she mumbled a hasty apology and pressed herself against the wall, slipping between two houses.

Honestly, she was pretty sure that she was having a nervous breakdown. She wasn't sure exactly how that felt, but she felt cold and faint and slightly nauseous. Her notebook, her entire world- gone, taken by Isabella of all people, someone whom she liked to consider her best friend. It just didn't make sense to her.

Jehan was gone. No one else knew, not even Ally or Elsa, but Bridget knew, and she knew that since neither Bella or Jehan were still at base, they had run off.

Why would Isabella run off with her notebook? She didn't know what was going on, and was just so confused- this had to be a mistake. She prayed that it was as she reached up and ran a hand through her brown hair, pulling out several strands that she swore were turning gray. Oh god, she was going to look just like Valjean after the trial. She shuddered at the thought.

All of a sudden, a voice sounded from right next to her.

"Lovely day, ain't it?"

She jumped about two feet in the air and only when her heart had slowed to about one hundred and twenty beats per minute did she realize that it was only Gavroche.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, kid! Scared me out of my skin!"

The gamin grinned. "Sorry. Not a great day for you, then?"

"Not at all." Bridget shook her head slowly.

"What's 'a matter?"

"My best friend ran off with my most prized possession."

Gavroche settled himself beside her. "That ain't good. Why'd she do that?"

Bridget shrugged. "Love, maybe? I haven't the slightest idea, really. All I know is that she's somewhere around Paris and I don't know where." She laughed bitterly. "Anyway, how's your day?"

"Rotten. Last night I got knocked out by some ladies, an' I woke up in the middle a' the night in some student's place. Missed dinner an' everything. Not that I woulda had much dinner, mind."

Bridget nodded understandingly. "It's the principle of the thing. Anyway, at least your day is almost worse than mine."

Gavroche shrugged his tiny shoulders, concealed within his threadbare coat. Suddenly his face lit up with some sort of brilliant idea. "Hey, why don't we make both our days better, hmm?"

Bridget looked over at him curiously. "What do you have in mind?"

"I know Paris. I could find yer friend for ya… if there's somethin' in it for me." He smiled mischievously and it dawned on Bridget what he wanted. She laughed in spite of herself.

"Why you little fox… would forty francs do?"

The child's eyes brightened as he nodded enthusiastically. "Cert'nly would. I'm Gavroche." He stuck out a calloused hand, and for a moment Bridget was almost afraid to touch it, covered as it was with blisters and chilblains. But she swallowed her apprehension and seized his hand.

"I'm Bridget. Nice to meet you, Gavroche."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Isabella ran. She wasn't sure where she was going but she ran anyway, no sense of direction controlling her movements whatsoever. She had to run, because now that she thought of it she was quite certain that she was about to pass out.

Jehan. She had kissed Jehan. Sweet jesus, she had kissed Jehan Prouvaire, the guy whom she had been fantasizing about for years. She even dreamt about him- the same dream, every week. Mom was angry and Isabella was crying because she just couldn't understand what exactly she had done wrong this time, and then Jehan showed up and took her away, just like in the fairy tales. He was her prince.

And she had just kissed him.

She didn't know what to think. She had sort of forced herself on him, but not really because he had nodded, which has to count for something, right? That surely made it okay. And he didn't even object! Like a little lamb, almost, he had just gone with it. And it was wonderful! She had kissed a boy only once before, two years ago. It had been Ryan Archer, who all the girls adored, but for some reason he had taken Isabella to the freshman dance, and they had kissed. After that, they had stayed on good terms but Ryan got a girlfriend and never really looked twice at Isabella again... at least not like that.

But Jehan was different. He liked flowers, like her, and was always polite, like her, and he was poetic- not like her, but she tried. He was the type of guy she wanted, and he was there and they had kissed and Isabella was ecstatic.

She had done it again, she realized as she looked around at her now unfamiliar and rather scary surroundings. She had gone and gotten lost in her own head and now she was in a completely different part of Paris- a bad part of Paris. She gulped, glancing around her. There were people, dressed shabbily, some in rags, dirty and thin. They either kept their heads down or stared straight at her in a way that made her shiver. She quickened her pace.

Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. A rough hand clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around. She was suddenly face to face with a rough looking, muscular man with gray, worn skin stretched taut across his face and beady brown eyes. Towering over her, he smiled terribly, teeth practically rotting out of his gums, fantastic shades of yellows and browns.

" Hey there, missie," he hissed, his breath smelling of cheap liquor. "Ya lost?"

She flinched away from him, but he had a firm grip on his shoulder. "Please," She murmured, trying not to look intimidated. "I must go." The man grinned.

"You're in the wrong section, girl. Y'ought to be with the bourgeois." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Too late now."

In a swift movement he slammed her against the wall of a building. She gasped as she collided with the stone, the impact knocking the air right out of her. The man pinned her arms to her sides as she struggled. "No, no, monsieur, let me go!" She screamed shrilly, and the eyes of several of the people around darted her way for a second. However, most pretended not to see anything at all.

" Hold still!" The man bared his horrible teeth. "Now, let's see what she has in her pockets, mmm?" Isabella screamed again as suddenly there was another giant man right next to the first.

"Where's the money?" He snarled in a low, throaty voice. Isabella shook her head frantically.

"I haven't got anything, I swear!"

"Shut up!" The first one hissed, exchanging a glance with his friend. The two seemed to communicate silently for a moment before turning back to Isabella, who felt her blood run cold.

"If she ain't got any money..."

"We can still make use of 'er."

With a squeal, Isabella kicked out and got Man One right in the knee. He swore like a sailor and slammed her back into the wall. her head connected with the stone and she gasped as pain shot through her back and the world spun around her.

Suddenly, in her haze, she saw the second man crumple to the ground. Releasing Isabella, the first man spun around to face his attacker... an eleven year old.

"Who the hell are you?"

The kid smirked cockily. "No, who the 'ell are you? Ya don't attack innocent ladies!"

The man snarled. "And you'll stop me?"

The kid shrugged casually. "Since ya asked, sure." The man (rather stupidly, not that he was showing himself to be particularly bright) then tried to grab him, but the kid landed a clean kick to the man's gut. Bent over, he picked up the same rock he had knocked the other man out with and sent Man One to the ground, out cold.

Isabella blinked at him, in total awe. The kid grinned. " 'E wasn't that 'ard ta deal with. I've met worse." He stuck a hand out. "Name's Gavroche."

Isabella took his hand, shaking it. "I'm Isabella. I don't know how to thank you- I was so scared!"

"Oh, you had better be," said a voice from behind her, and Isabella turned to see Bridget, hands on her hips.

"Ah, yeah. Yer friend's kinda mad at ya," Gavroche added, leaning against the wall to watch the show.

Isabella frowned, looking at her friend questioningly. Bridget looked apprehensive but forceful, hands on her hips and eyes locked on Bella's. "Let's get to the point- did you take my notebook?"

"Oh, yes. I figured that you wouldn't mind, your poem was just so brilliant that I wanted to show Jehan, and-"

"So you... you took my notebook without asking?" Bridget looked as if she didn't want to believe it, and Isabella hung her head in shame.

She looked towards Gavroche for help, seeming a bit panicked, but the gamin merely shrugged as if to say 'your problem'. "You- I borrow your stuff all the time, we all do, you never object-"

"But you know how precious my notebooks are to me, Bella!" Bridget exclaimed, a hurt look taking over her features. "What, you think that just because I don't say anything I don't mind? Don't notice? Well, news flash, I do... What'd you do with it?"

Isabella gulped. "I- it's back in Jehan's cell- Bridget, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"You didn't think, Bella!" Bridget cried, suddenly angry. Isabella froze up. Bridget _never_ lost her temper, ever. "You never think about _me_, no one ever thinks about _me_! I'm always _there_, no one ever _notices_ me, no one ever bothers to give me any credit around here except Elsa, and even_ that_ fell to hell! Everyone always walks all over me, taking credit for my work, what I do, what I say. You don't know Latin- you've never read Juvenal, _I have_, and you never even thanked me for that!"

"I- I meant to-"

"But you didn't! No one ever does! No one thinks about Bridget! Poor Bridget McDonnell, whose parents can barely afford to keep the house, whose five little siblings drive her crazy, who never says a word to anybody about anything. Bella, I've known you since first grade and you're a _saint_, but you never really noticed me! I mean, it's not just you, no one does! And taking my stuff without asking- fine, as long as I get it back. But my notebook- Bella,_ no_. You know how much it means to me, you know that's my entire life, you know that- yet you still did it! Why?"

"I'm so sorry Bridget!" Isabella exclaimed, wringing her hands together nervously. "I never knew that you felt like that."

"No," Bridget replied hollowly, looking hurt. "No one ever does."

And suddenly she and the gamin were gone, just as quickly as they had appeared.

_**AN: Wow, that scene was tense. I'm sorry if this one was too short or bad- I've been going through a hard time recently, all sick. Now that I'm better my sister just developed a lung infection. So, yeah, life sucks.**_

_**Anyway, thanks for all of your reviews. Also, R's sort of drunk here- R's always drunk, no surprise. And yes, Gavroche is a badass.**_


	18. In which the Amigas are hardly present

"We meet here? Tonight?" The hushed whisper could barely be heard over the rushing of water, but it was clearly detectable by the one it was meant for, and the gleeful reply sounded only a bit louder.

"Yes, yes, right here, near the Seine. This exact bridge." Green eyes bore into brown, eager and enthusiastic. "Tonight."

"I'll be here," Avielle replied with a grin, excitement playing in her eyes. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Goodbye, then, Avielle." He stopped, a hint of worry in his tone. "You will be alright getting home on your own?"

"Yeah, yeah," she laughed, "I'll be fine." She shot him a teasing little wave that made him grin.

Then, with a brisk movement, she spun him around by the shoulders so he faced away from her. He laughed, but when he turned back he found that she was gone.

Just how does she do it? He could not figure out how she always managed to disappear just like that, but he supposed that it didn't matter- it merely added to the mystery surrounding these strange girls. A mystery that he, sorry as he was to admit, had not obtained any answers to this afternoon. They had been too busy speaking of other things, and in Avielle's presence he found that some things just became nearly irrelevant. He still couldn't explain it, but he found her fascinating- certainly more than most of his grisettes. She had the strangest stories to tell, about her brothers (whom Courfeyrac thought quite amusing characters, and was fairly certain that they would be good friends should they ever meet), her cousin who was in prison for trying to overthrow the state... of Massachusetts, her friend Elsa's zany experiments that reminded him very much of Combeferre, even her odd grandfather, who was nearly a hundred years old. Courfeyrac wasn't sure what the average life span was, but figured that Combeferre would know because he knew almost everything, or at least something about everything.

In thinking of Combeferre, he realized that he had once again neglected his friends in pursuit of a pretty face. Ah, well. How late could he be? Maybe the meeting hadn't even started yet. No reason for him to hurry.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"I'm getting concerned," Combeferre announced. "We have been here for nearly an hour and neither Grantaire nor Courfeyrac have shown up. It is past one in the afternoon, and they should be here."

Bahorel shrugged, placing the bottle he held on the table. "I doubt it's anything to fret over. Neither of them are ever very punctual as it is."

"Yes, but they know how important this meeting is, and given the current threat-"

"Which might not be a threat-"

"But probably is," Joly put in quietly.

"They should be here." Combeferre sighed, shaking his head. It wasn't really out of character for either of them to be late, but they should have been here by now, and...

"I'm lost," Jehan piped up from where he leaned ("poetically," he said) against the wall, hand behind his head as he studied his friends critically. Blinking, Combeferre realized that the poet had missed all of yesterday, and thus had absolutely no idea of what was happening.

Enjolras, coming to this realization at the exact time Combeferre did, stood. "Jehan, we have reason to believe that we are being stalked by a group of potentially dangerous women. Apparently they are _fans_ of us. What do they call themselves, Combeferre?"

Combeferre glanced at the notes that he had been pouring over for the past hour. "Las Amigas de los Miserables. The Friends of the Miserable."

"Interesting name," Jehan murmured, biting his lower lip. "The parallels to us are notable. But why on earth would they be 'miserable'?"

"Perhaps they mean the poor?"

"Perhaps... well, I don't quite understand. Why would these women be stalking us? How do we know this?"

"We met with them," Joly replied. "Last night. Combeferre and Bahorel spoke with two of them and they told us everything. And then both sides engaged in a street fight, thus explaining why Enjolras has a black eye and Bahorel's wrist is broken."

Jehan frowned, going up to Enjolras and studying his face. Enjolras frowned. He had very strict rules about his personal space and right now Jehan was violating at least five of them. "Enjolras has a black eye? Why, I can't even tell."

"That's very nice, Jehan." Enjolras pushed the younger man back by his forehead until he was almost five feet away. "But we need to decide how to deal with this issue so we can get back to planning the _revolution_. I am loathe to begin without Courfeyrac and Grantaire present, but Grantaire just sits in the corner and drinks anyway. I suppose we should begin now."

"What?" A voice sounded from the doorway, and all eyes turned to Courfeyrac. "You would start without me? Enjolras, my friend, I am hurt." He grinned and walked fully into the room, taking a seat at one of the tables.

"Courfeyrac!" Joly exclaimed with a relieved grin. "Where were you?"

Courfeyrac smirked. "Well, I saved one young woman from plunging into the Seine- we had lunch. And then after she left, I started to head here, but I ran into a nice blonde from last week, can't recall her name for the life of me, and she introduced me to her friend, this beautiful girl- Carlotta, or Charlotta it was, I can't really recall- and we chatted for a while, but then they had to leave so I finally made my way here."

"So you've basically spent the entire day picking up women?" Jehan eyed him disbelievingly.

"Yes."

Bahorel shrugged. "This is Courfeyrac. What can you expect, honestly?" Courfeyrac would have thrown something at him, but the table was bare. Enjolras shot Courfeyrac his infamous "_Enjy-Glare-'O-Death_". (Copyright: Enjolras, 1832)

"Courfeyrac, we were worried. Grantaire still hasn't shown up."

Courfeyrac's face fell, going serious. "Well, that's odd. Where is he?"

"We're not sure," Jehan sighed. "Apparently Enjolras thinks he might have been kidnapped." He said it in a joking manner, but no one laughed. The entire room was deadly silent. Everyone else knew what the Amigas could do.

At that moment, Courfeyrac knew that he should tell them about Avielle. He had no reason not to, really. But he decided against it. Of the three women he had been graced with the company of that day, Avielle was certainly the more interesting of the lot. While he couldn't even remember Carlotta/Charlotta's name, he could remember almost everything that Avielle had said all morning.

He wanted to talk to her more, because she was really great conversation. She had her own opinions- rare in most women he knew- and she wasn't shy about anything. Maybe he wouldn't even mind making her part of his collection. Actually, he thought that he would like that very much. She was certainly pretty enough, and had a great personality.

But that didn't mean he wanted to tell his friends about her. No, he decided, Avielle would remain his secret for just a little while longer.

"Wait," he suddenly exclaimed, turning to Jehan. "Prouvaire, where did you come from? We thought you had gotten kidnapped."

Jehan sighed, a bit annoyed at having to explain this for what seemed like the fifth time in the last hour. "I was _not_ abducted. I hit my head, and a young lady helped me."

Enjolras suddenly looked up, eyes sharp, as if something had just occurred to him. "What young lady, exactly?"

Jehan shrugged his shoulders, wondering why everyone looked so intense all of a sudden. Had he said something? "Her name was Isabella Ricci. I met her the evening before last, when Combeferre was attacked."

Combeferre frowned, glancing at his notes again. "Enjolras," he said suddenly, "They did say something about a Bella."

Enjolras grabbed the page Combeferre held, handing it to Jehan and ordering him to point out anything he recognized. Obligingly, Jehan examined the page closely.

There was a list of names, first. Beside some of the names there were brief descriptions, such as _brown hair, blue eyes, pale,_ things like that. He pointed out two names- Bella, and the name Elsa, which he vaguely recognized but couldn't quite place where. Enjolras frowned, nodding grimly as Jehan handed the page back. He exchanged a troubled glance with Combeferre,

"Feuilly's not here either," Courfeyrac said, noticing for the first time.

"Sick," Joly replied blandly.

"Oh." Courfeyrac frowned, brow creasing in concern. He hated for anyone to be sick. Perhaps he would go visit him...

-XXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Feuilly would not have had much use for visitors. He was practically dead on his feet as he dragged himself back to his run down little apartment- if you could even call it that.

He was against crime. He had always been against crime, even as a gamin on the streets, when he had to steal to survive. He strove towards honesty and tried never to tell a lie.

But he _swore to god_, if he threw up again he would call up his old friend Montparnasse to borrow a knife, track down these _Amigas_ and lie his ass off if the police caught him. He would do this without a second thought, because this was _inhumane_.

He hadn't slept all night, busy as he was being sick out his window. The second he got home he threw himself onto his mattress, completely exhausted. He was asleep in seconds, and knew no more until he heard a sharp rapping on his door several hours later. He groaned, hoping that whoever it was would take the hint to go away and leave him to his sleeping in peace. However, whomever was at the door obviously could not take a hint and simply bounded in to the room like an overexcited puppy. Feuilly mentally bemoaned the fact that he hadn't had the energy to lock the door.

"Hi Feuilly!" Courfeyrac's bright voice chirped as Feuilly buried himself in his thin blanket, grabbing his hat by his side and placing it over his face.

"Oh, come now Feuilly!" Jehan laughed. He grabbed his arm and tried to pull him off of the ground, but had to jump back as Feuilly swung at him.

"How the hell did you find out where I live?" His voice was hoarse from sleep and he winced at the sound.

"It took us forever!" Said Courfeyrac, his tone bright, and although Feuilly couldn't see it he just knew that the man was touching his paints, the expensive set he had saved up for weeks to purchase.

"Courfeyrac, step away!"

"Okay, okay, fine. Sorry, the colors were just pretty. So, do you feel better?"

"As good as I can feel, I suppose." He pulled his hat up so that it rested on top of his head and sat up, staring at the two men who were admiring the numerous fans strewn everywhere, really the only colorful thing in his drafty, scarcely furnished apartment.

"Feuilly, I never knew that you had such artistic talent!" Jehan exclaimed, admiring one of Feuilly's simpler orders, a nice flower decal. "Why don't you design some of our pamphlets? We could use something eyecatching."

Feuilly shrugged, pulling himself to his feet. "Grantaire could do that, you know."

"Yes, but would Enjolras ever let him?" Courfeyrac glanced out the tiny window. "Nice view... you can see right inside that apartment." His eyes suddenly went wide and he dashed right up to the window. "Ooh, hello."

Feuilly rolled his eyes. "Courfeyrac, stop ogling the neighbor. Yes, she is a prostitute, and based on your reaction she is probably with a client right now. But she is a prostitute who for some ungodly reason has a giant sword hanging on her wall, and I have seen her use that sword. She has made it very clear to me that if I think I can get a free show every night without paying, she will not hesitate to use that sword on _me_. **_Step away from the window_."**

"Grantaire is missing," Jehan spoke up as he and Feuilly attempted to drag Courfeyrac away from the window without actually looking out of it, mindful of the neighbor's decency.

Feuilly raised an eyebrow, snatching his blanket off of the ground and throwing it over Courfeyrac's head, cutting off his vision and allowing them to safely drag him away. "Kidnapped?"

"Possibly. Maybe just drunk somewhere, off playing dominoes."

"Wouldn't be the first time... Courfeyrac, put it down!"

Startled, Courfeyrac dropped the paintbrush, which snapped into two pieces upon hitting the ground. "Oh," he said sheepishly. "Sorry, Feuilly."

Feuilly muttered an obscenity under his breath and rubbed his temple. "Why did you come here?"

Courfeyrac brightened up. "We wanted to make sure you were feeling better." He grinned cheerfully, the very picture of an innocent, well intentioned party.

"Ah, lovely. Well, yes, I am feeling better, thank you for your concern, please leave now." Feuilly briskly led the two men towards the door.

"Will you be attending the meeting tonight?" Jehan asked, sticking his arms out so that he became lodged in the doorframe and could not be pushed out easily. "Enjolras says we still need to focus, even with what's going on."

"Yes, I will. I'll see you there, goodbye." With a sharp shove, the two men went flying out the door and Feuilly slammed it shut, taking care to lock it.

"Bye Feuilly!" Courfeyrac called cheerfully from the other side of the door. "Feel better!"

Feuilly groaned and dove back into his bed, covering himself with the blanket and trying to get back to sleep, not quite sure whether he should feel happy that someone actually cared to check in on him or not.

He had never had that happen before.

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

"Well, that was productive," Jehan commented wryly as the two made their way from Feuilly's apartment.

"Well, at least we know he's alright." Courfeyrac's good humor was, as usual, indomitable. "Quiet sort, Feuilly. Keeps to himself a lot. Smart, though. Really nice neighbors." His mind flashed back to the attractive woman in the room next door, fair skinned with long silvery waves that flowed down her back. He didn't exactly have a type, but blondes were nice. Blondes were always nice. Brunettes were nice too, of course, he thought as he watched the woman in his head slowly morph into a figure in a dirty purple dress with wild brown curls and a sunny grin. Yes, brunettes were nice, especially loud ones with humorous stories and a tendency towards walking along the edge of bridges.

"Lost in thought, Courf?" Jehan asked, noting his friend's uncharacteristic quiet. "Some pretty grisette on your mind?"

"Something like that," Courfeyrac nodded. Jehan laughed, patting him on the back.

"Ah, same here, my friend. I'm afraid my mind has been quite taken over by one particular woman."

Courfeyrac smirked at the younger man, raising one thin eyebrow. "Well! Jean Prouvaire! Is it true? Has the young poet possibly found love?"

Jehan blushed, shaking his head. "Now, I would not quite call it love... at least, I don't think so. You would know better than I would, Courfeyrac. You've been in love more times than you can count."

Courfeyrac tactfully ignored that last comment, choosing instead to spin Jehan around as if they were dancing. "Ah, young love! How beautiful it is! Do tell, Jehan, who is the lucky mademoiselle who has won your heart?"

The Amazing Spinning Poet finally came to a rest and, slightly dazed, shook his head at in amusement. "It is the girl I mentioned before, the one who calls herself Isabella."

"Ah, she who nursed you back to health after your accident, you say? Tell me Jehan, are you sure that she wasn't the _cause_ of it?"

"What?"

"Well, it's only something to think about. Why, I remember this one girl last year, Zéphyrine. In fact I shall always remember her for as long as I live, for one night we happened to get into an argument and she smacked me over the head with something. To this day I am not sure what it was, but it was something very hard and more than likely metal. Now I shall carry her with me for the rest of my life, for I have a tiny scar right on the back of my head to remind me of her always."

Jehan blinked twice before saying. "Courfeyrac, you have the most fascinating stories. But no, I am quite certain that Mademoiselle Isabella could not have injured me, for I distinctly remember her screaming when she saw my attacker, whomever it may have been."

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Alright then. So, Jehan, tell me about the girl."

Jehan smiled unconsciously as he pictured the fair Mademoiselle Isabella in his mind. "Well... she has the most lovely eyes, these deep chocolate orbs that you would expect to find in stories, never in real life. They glow when she smiles, and when she's serious they seem to bore right in to you, as if they can see into your very soul. And her hair is long, goes down her back and stops right before reaching her waist. She wears hair ribbons a lot, and they suit her, they really do. And her smile- oh, Courfeyrac, it is the smile of angels! It lights up her entire face, makes her appear as if she is not of this world. It is certainly the most beautiful smile that I have ever seen, and she wears it well."

Courfeyrac smiled at the younger man. "My friend, it is a good thing that Combeferre is not here or else he would be taking notes. After all, what subject could possibly be more fascinating than a poet in love?"

"I'm not in lo-"

"Listen to yourself, Jehan! Going on and on about her eyes like that, really, even Grantaire isn't that bad! No, I'm sorry to tell you, but _mon ami_, you are in love."

Jehan was silent for a long moment, and Courfeyrac was almost afraid that his teasing had offended him before the blond man spoke again. "Well. That certainly is inconvenient, considering I only met her two days ago."

Courfeyrac shrugged, not really fazed by this comment. "Still not as bad as Pontmercy."

_**AN: I have done it. One chapter, entirely Ami-centric. You're welcome. This honestly wasn't that hard for me to write. I kind of enjoyed this.**_


	19. In which Gavroche becomes a therapist

"Alright, well, that failed spectacularly."

"I should say so!" Eponine exclaimed with a shake of her head, causing a strand of dark hair to slip out of the pile high on top of her head. To be honest, Ally thought the hairstyle might be a bit overly fancy, but Eponine loved it and Ally wasn't one to deny simple pleasures to any of her friends, especially since she guessed Eponine would punch her if she tried to comment.

"Well, that's alright," Ally said with a shrug, trying in vain to smooth down her own frizzy curls that seemed to pop away from her head no matter what she did. "Not we're going to chat up someone else."

"Chat up?"

"Talk to. We are going to go and chat up Marius Pontmercy."

Eponine blinked, a small grin spreading across her face. They were going to see Marius- oh, he would be so impressed with her _now_! Maybe now he would finally see her as a proper lady! Surely he would want to treat her to lunch or perhaps a walk- Eponine realized with a start that she could give alms now instead of receiving them. Marius would be so impressed with her! Self-consciously, she smoothed down her long skirt and fluffed her hair. She wished that she could see what she looked like.

Suddenly she came to a stop. "Hold on," she ordered, holding a hand up. Ally stopped, staring at her in puzzlement as Eponine, biting her lip, plotholed a small hand mirror and began inspecting herself.

She sighed in contentment, examining her face, now entirely devoid of dirt and mud stains. Her face was still gaunt, but her elegant cheekbones that had long since vanished under poverty could now be seen a bit more prominently, and her cheeks were flushed lightly, giving her the appearance of health.

"Oh…" she murmured, reaching up a hand to touch her face. Ally smiled a bit awkwardly, not really sure what to make of this.

"You... like mirrors, hmm?"

"Oh, I just love them! They're like a door, I think. To a different world, where everything's better. It looks exactly like our world, but everything is backwards. No one is sick or sad or anything like that, and if someone loves someone, they're always loved back. No one yells at anyone, and everything's beautiful." She trailed off, clutching the mirror close to her chest.

"It's like a dream, almost. I hope I can go there, someday. I've thought about it."

Ally smiled thinly, wondering exactly Eponine meant by her last statement. Shaking off the cold concern gnawing at the back of her mind, she smiled at the gamine. "That's beautiful, Ponine."

Eponine snapped the mirror closed suddenly, closing her hand around it. "Come on, then. Let's go find M'sieur Marius."

-XXXXXXXXX-

"It's not fair!" Bridget shrieked, kicking a wall and then squealing at the stab of pain that shot through her foot. Gavroche, leaning against the wall, smirked.

"You kinda deserved that, leavin' 'er like that. She looked near tears last I saw."

Bridget raised her chin indignantly. "Well, it's not my fault. She took my notebook and just thought I wouldn't mind. Nobody ever thinks I'll mind! But you know what? I _do_. I _really_ do."

Gavroche frowned, shaking his head. "Why, it can't be that bad."

"It is," Bridget snorted, entwining her hand in her hair and dragging it through. "No one cares about _me._"

He rolled his eyes. "If you say so."

"Kid, can I tell you a bit about myself?"

The gamin shrugged, not seeming to care one way or the other. "Sure. Nothin' but time, anyways."

And so, with a relieved smile, Bridget finally told someone all that she had longed to tell her friends for the longest time, but never did because no one ever paid her any mind. It felt so good to tell someone, to just get it off of her chest, and Bridget felt about twenty pounds lighter when she was finished. The relief of a conflicted person speaking to someone about their troubles can hardly be matched.

She told him about herself- Miss Bridget Mary McDonnell, sixteen years old, born on a frigid winter night in January. Bridget, who was always such a quiet girl that she was often overlooked in the classroom and at home. Bridget, who had five younger siblings, a twelve year old brother named Declan and four little sisters- Rose, Lydia, Maura and Charlotte, ages ten, eight, five and one respectively. How her parents could hardly afford to keep the house with so many children and thus Bridget had to work part time in a bookshop ever since she was fourteen. Bridget, who aspired to be an actress and writer, and who had been told ever since she was a little girl that she was truly talented. Bridget, who always wanted to be noticed and yet blended in to the background so well that not even her own friends remembered that she was there sometimes.

Bridget told the little gamin how she had always looked up to Elsa, who had never treated her with anything but kindness, and how she had always been slightly envious of the older girl's close relationship with Ally and Avielle- a relationship that Bridget could only barely claim to have with Isabella. Isabella, who had been one of Bridget's only friends all through elementary school. But even so, Bridget sometimes felt that Isabella and all of the other Amigas overlooked her until sometimes she felt invisible.

The gamin listened solemnly, with only the shortest comment here and there, and Bridget found herself amazed by how mature the little boy acted. He couldn't have been more than eleven and yet acted as if he were a full grown adult. None of her siblings could ever sit still and listen to someone for this long, and yet Gavroche had no trouble.

When she finally stopped talking, she was unsure of how much time had passed, but supposed that it didn't really matter anyway. The gamin frowned, staring at her for the longest time until she began to feel uncomfortable.

"So? What's the verdict?" She finally said, a bit embarrassed at her long rants that Gavroche probably couldn't care less about.

The gamin shrugged, a thoughtful look on his face. "Yer only problem is yer too quiet. None of those girls notice ya 'cause ya hardly ever speak, and when you do it's usually somethin' useful to them. Sure, it's their fault, but it's yer fault to for not speakin' up when ya oughta. Yer friends hardly even know ya."

"Yes they do!" Bridget protested with a frown. "They've known me forever!"

"So you've told 'em 'bout all this?"

"No…"

"There's yer problem, then." The child stood up decidedly, "You need to talk."

Gavroche wasn't a counselor by far, but his words made a mark on Bridget all the same. He was right, she realized. This little kid figured out all her problems in less than ten minutes, and Bridget felt phenomenally stupid. Maybe everyone was at fault for her predicament, maybe no one was. She was never very open with her friends… how could they know how she was feeling?

"Thanks, Gavroche…" Bridget frowned, smiling at the gamin. He nodded with cheeky grin.

"Somethin' for you, somethin' for me?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah-" Bridget immediately plotholed in three twenty franc pieces, tossing them to the boy. "Here, for your trouble."

Gavroche snatched them out of the air and blinked, blue eyes wide. "Hey! How'd ya do that?"

"Do what?" Bridget asked innocently, turning away so that the child wouldn't see her grin.

"These pieces- just appeared, just like that! How?"

Bridget shrugged. "Magic. Thanks, Gavroche." To the child's eyes, she suddenly disappeared out of thin air with a small wave.

"Hey!" Gavroche exclaimed, head darting around frantically, searching for the girl who had abruptly vanished before his eyes. Upon finding nothing, he muttered something about crazy witch girls and scurried off to buy something for his momes tonight, because they were going to eat like kings.

Maybe today wasn't so rotten after all.

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

Avielle fell through the ceiling screaming her lungs out.

"Sweet god freaking_ jesus_!" Elsa yelped, literally leaping two feet off of the bed and unfortunately twisting in midair, sending her crashing into the floor. As you may by now have noted, surprise doesn't go over well with her and the normally level-headed girl was truly shocked as she sat up slowly and regarded Avielle, sitting in the middle of the floor with a sheepish grin on her face.

"Hi, Elsa."

Elsa tilted her head back. _"Why?"_

"Cause I wasn't watching where I plotholed and ended up plotholing inside of the slide instead of the room."

"Why weren't you watching?"

"Busy."

"With what?"

"Fangirling."

"Freaking goddamn fangirling."

"Y'know, for someone so literate you would think you wouldn't swear as much."

"I can swear as much as I freaking want to, you just scared me half to death. Was the screaming really necessary?"

"Probably not, but it sure made it a bit more fun." Avielle stood with a bright grin, offering a hand to her friend. "C'mon, no use sitting on the floor all day. Not healthy."

Elsa rolled her eyes, climbing to her feet. She was used to her friend's hyperactivity, but Avi never failed to surprise her. "Thanks."

"Whatcha doin'?" Avi asked, jumping onto her bed and lying flat on her stomach, chin in her palm. Elsa shrugged, holding up the latest book she was reading. "Wuthering Heights? Again? How many times now?"

"Eight." Elsa opened the book, flipping to her page easily. She never really lost her place, she could always find it.

"I don't know how you can read so much. I don't have the time or the patience."

"It's simple," Elsa replied, "just sit down and start reading. You get lost in the book soon enough."

"Keyword: YOU."

"Yeah, so? I can read, I like it, whatever."

"Prickly today, hmm? What's up?"

"Grantaire's in a cell and Jehan and Isabella are missing. Don't know where they've gone or whether or not I should be concerned."

"Oh, come on. They're grown kids. They won't go out and do something stupid."

"They're teenagers."

"Isabella's a lady and Jehan's a gentleman. They aren't gonna do anything they'll regret, that isn't how fairytales go and Isabella's determined to have her fairytale romance." Elsa didn't reply, just buried her head deeper in her book. Avielle frowned.

"But that's not all that's bothering you, is it? Come on, Els. What's wrong today?"

Elsa shrugged her thin shoulders, burying herself in her blanket. "I just had a really weird dream last night, is all."

"Hmm? What of?"

"Combeferre."

"And you call that weird? Geez, Elsa, you love those dreams. I love those dreams, and I don't even like Combeferre. He's just such a fascinating case, with his brain and-"

"Avielle Ihavenodesirestohearyourfantasiesaboutmyfictionalb oyfriendstopitrightnowthankyou."

"Okay, fine. But really, why's that bad?"

"Because…. He was sentient, Avi."

Avielle frowned, tilting her head. "Uhh, big word."

Elsa rolled her eyes. "He was thinking for himself and it was scary. He's not supposed to be able to think for himself in my dream."

Avielle crinkled her nose. "Wow. That is weird."

"Yeah." Elsa shook her head, hair falling in her eyes. "And it really creeped me out."

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

_Dear Anne,_

_I've done something awful today, Anne._

_I'm sorry, I really am. I know without question that it was beyond wrong, and that I never should have done it. But Jehan- oh, Jehan._

_I healed him early this morning, and I nearly passed out. It gets easier every time I use it, but my healing power takes so much of a toll on me that I'm not sure how I can keep using it. I repaired everyone's broken teeth and such – pretty sure Bridget had some sort of skull fracture, but she's fine too. And then, after I had healed Jehan, I…_

_I went into the bedroom and took Bridget's notebook._

_I never should have done it. I know how Bridget worships her notebook, and I know all that she writes in there and how personal it is to her- I don't know exactly what she writes, she keeps her thoughts to herself a lot, but I know it's personal. However, just last week she wrote one of her poems, one of her gorgeous poems, and it was about freedom. I just thought… I remember thinking how much it reminded me of Les Amis, and now that this has happened… I had to share it with Jehan._

_And he loved it Anne, he loved it! It just made me feel so wonderful to be sharing this with him, even if it wasn't mine- my god, Anne, he's everything I ever dreamed that he would be and more. He's so different from the boy I fantasized about- I see now that he isn't a prince. But he's so much more- he's thoughtful, a true intellectual, and he always has something fascinating to say. And he's sweet- he's bashful and kind, just like I imagined him to be._

_And then I let him go. This was one of the worst parts of what I did, and I'm still not sure if I should regret it or not, but I kissed him and let him go. I kissed him and it was wonderful, spectacular, extravagant. Maybe I'm just using big words now, but it was incredible, really! I think I'm in love with him, really in love with him. I know it sounds foolish, but isn't that how it works in fairytales? Didn't Cinderella know her true love the moment she saw him? Didn't Snow White know the moment that she sang with him? I've always dreamed, ever since I was a child, of happily ever after. And even though Mom says it doesn't exist- I still believe in it, I really do. And I swear, if I could have Jehan, I would be content to stay here forever._

_Bridget- I've gained a new understanding of her today. You know what I've realized? She's close to me, out of all of the Amigas. I'm the one she always talks to, I'm her best friend, and yet she isn't mine. I'm friends with everybody, I don't really pinpoint one best friend, and yet Bridget only has me. I'm all she's had for years now, and I never realized it._

_Bridget works so hard, Anne. Most days she goes to the bookshop right after school, and labors away until five o'clock, when she has to get her homework done and help make dinner, and then she has about two hours of free time before she has to help her siblings get cleaned up for bed. I can't imagine it. I never have anything of importance to do, really. I mean, I have piano lessons and tennis, but other than that I only have my friends and Lucy to occupy my time. And you, of course. I always have you, Anne, ever since mother gave you to me when I was young._

_But Bridget has no one- she and Noelle are somewhat friendly, but she isn't really close to anyone in particular. Except for me, and I have just realized that I may not have been a very good friend to her, and I am in agonies over this. Bridget is very dear to me and I don't want to purposefully hurt her in any way, yet I am afraid that I may have done just that today._

_In truth I've been ignorant, Anne. Ignorant to one of my closest friends, and I feel horrible._

_I will return her notebook to her. It is hers and I have absolutely no right to it. I'm merely unsure how I am going to apologize to her._

_I'm not sure exactly where I am now- I think I'm lost. Maybe somewhere near Rue Plumet? I'm not sure… I have to find somewhere. It is not safe to wander alone._

_Yours For Eternity,_

_Bella_

_**AN: Thank you guys so much for all of these great reviews! I'm going in a really epic direction with this, so I hope you guys all decide to stick around!**_


	20. In which romantic cliches are explored

Isabella had always been fond of rainstorms. Ever since her childhood, she had always found a sort of romantic, dreamlike quality to it, that of which she was so attracted to. Certainly, the small child isolated from the rest of the world in her little corner of the grand mansion in which she resided spent many days searching for pretty, charming things which could reside in her dream-world. She always tried to find a type of beauty in everything, and rainstorms were certainly no exception.

As a child, she would roam the garden during rainstorms. Mrs. Litten liked having a house straight out of a magazine, and the gardens were no exception- an immense labyrinth of winding hedges, fountains and foliage that Isabella would sometimes get lost in for hours. But she found it especially magical during a storm. She loved the roar of thunder, the way the rain hit the walk with a sort of tapping sound that reminded her of people dancing, the screaming of the wind whipping through the trees that would sometimes blow so hard that she felt it would carry her away if she let it. And she almost did, several times when she was younger. She almost let the wind carry her away to who knows where. If she had, it is uncertain where she would have wound up- would she have wandered forever, roaming straight out of the garden and away from the Littens? Would she have gotten lost not in the physical sense, but in her own mind, trapped in her own little world for an eternity and unable to return? Isabella's childhood was quite precarious and very little kept her rooted to reality in those times- the exceptions being her friends and school.

Yet she found that rainstorms became much less pleasant when one became lost in Paris without any shelter and not even the slightest idea of where they were going. She didn't know anywhere she could find shelter and really didn't want to return to base- not with Bridget still fuming at her and Ally probably ballistic that she had let Jehan go. Elsa would be more levelheaded about it, but she wouldn't really understand why she had done it- all that she knew about love she had learned from her dreams of Combeferre. So Isabella set to wandering, and a it started to pour heavily, she eventually decided that just taking shelter under a tree in front of a house was good enough. She was already soaked through anyway, and so she sat there shivering for what seemed like the longest time.

The rain wasn't nearly as friendly as it had always been and she was freezing cold, and so she didn't bother watching it. Instead she lay her head against her shoulder, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. Sleep came quickly- she was already a bit traumatized by the Elsa incident of last night and had been having an exhausting day so far. She knew nothing more until she opened her eyes to a concerned voice.

"Mademoiselle? Are you alright?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed into the face of a young man with friendly green eyes and freckles dusted across his face. Isabella couldn't help feeling as if she should know this man from somewhere, yet couldn't place exactly from where.

The man placed a hand on her arm but immediately drew it back. "Mon dieu!" He exclaimed. "She's freezing."

"I live near here. We can bring her there," another voice, softer than the first man's, spoke from higher up. Isabella saw a pair of boots planted next to the green eyed man. Following those boots up there were a pair of dark blue trousers, a green coat and then a yellow waistcoat and purple cravat- Isabella's first thought was that she was being rescued by a circus clown, before she realized that the circus likely didn't even exist yet. At once she recognized the face of this man, and as her damp hair fell back to reveal her own face his eyes widened as he recognized her as well.

"Isabella?"

"Jehan!"

Green Eyes turned to his friend with a raised eyebrow and a tiny smirk. "Isabella? _The_ Isabella?"

"Yes, _the_ Isabella." Jehan bent down, taking in Isabella's soaked clothing and matted hair. "What has happened to you?" He asked in a low tone. Isabella responded with a melancholy smile.

"I'm not exactly welcome back home today. I'm in a bit of trouble, see, and didn't exactly have anywhere to go but under a tree."

Jehan frowned. "What could you possibly have done?"

Isabella bit her lip, feeling her regrets come rushing back. She had done a good many things just today, she reminded herself. she had let Jehan go when she wasn't supposed to, betrayed her friend's trust and kissed Jehan when she had no real right to. "Lots of things," she replied, forcing a smile on her face.

Jehan looked concerned but seemed rather placated by her smile, which pleased Isabella. She didn't want to worry anyone else with her own problems, and she found that a smile always made everything seem alright, even if it wasn't alright at all. Isabella shuddered as violent winds shook the tree she sat beneath, and Jehan took her hand.

"We need to get you someplace warm. It's unhealthy out here."

"Joly would have a fit," Green Eyes quipped, taking Jehan's umbrella as the poet actually lifted Isabella off of the ground. She gasped in surprise, not having expected such a thing.

"Oh!" Jehan looked startled, worried he had hurt her, but Isabella laughed softly. "Jehan, y-you don't have to! I can walk."

"You're freezing," he replied flippantly. "Mademoiselle Isabella, please don't protest. We'll get there quicker this way." She bit back a grin and settled for a small smile. Green Eyes held Jehan's umbrella over the both of them, drawing her attention back to him as they hurried along.

"You!" she exclaimed suddenly. "Y-you're Courfeyrac, aren't you?" The boy studied her face inquisitively, and she realized that she shouldn't know his name randomly. She bit her lower lip and hoped that he wouldn't realize who she was.

After a moment his eyes softened and he smiled at her. Isabella could hardly believe it. Had he really not recognized her? Perhaps he had, and just didn't want to alarm Jehan? She supposed that she should be glad of that, for although she didn't weigh that much and was relatively easy to carry, Jehan could very easily drop her if alarmed and that wouldn't help her at all. All the same, she was grateful for it. She shivered again and rested her head against Jehan's chest and closed her eyes.

Finally she heard his voice over the pounding rain. "Right here, I live here."

"Here?! Jean, this is incredible!"

Isabella looked up and was truly stunned at what she saw. Unlike most students, Jean Prouvaire didn't live in an apartment. He lived in an actual house in a relatively nice part of Paris. The house looked expensive- nothing insane, but still relatively bourgeois. She was shocked, honestly. The house was absolutely gorgeous.

Jehan strode up to the double oak doors and banged on it with his foot. There was a scuffling from inside and finally a little woman with white hair stuffed under a cap pulled the door open, making Isabella wince. The lady was only about five feet tall, and the effort of pulling the heavy door open seemed to exhaust her.

"Monsieur!" She exclaimed, taking in the two students and the drenched fangirl blinking at her. "What is this?"

Jehan entered into a cozy sort of foyer, nodding at the maid. "Margeaux, please get a fire going in the parlour, quickly, and perhaps something warm to drink."

"Yes, monsieur," the maid nodded, looking bewildered. "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine," Jehan replied, offering the old woman a comforting smile. He nodded and bustled off, moving surprisingly quickly for her age.

"That's my housekeeper, Margeaux," Jehan whispered to Isabella, ducking his head for her to hear. "She has been with the family for most of her life. Only serves me now, and doubles as our portress."

A little brown cat darted up to them, winding itself between Jehan's legs and rubbing against him. "Hello, Fleur," he greeted absently, placing Isabella down on a chair. Courfeyrac noticed the kitten and immediately began cooing over it.

"Oh, hello! Aww, _petit minou_, my baby! Yes, we can be friends, can't we?" The cat rubbed it's face against Courfeyrac's cheek, and Isabella couldn't help but smile.

"I found her in a gutter," Jehan told her with a grin. "Took her in, raised her."

"That's sweet." She had always imagined that he would do something like that. "Do you live here all alone?" Isabella asked, trying to take in as much of the room as she could. She was in Jehan Prouvaire's _house. _This was_ awesome.  
_

It was quite an impressive house, as well. The furnishings were sparse, but what there was was immense. Not in size, for they were in face quite average- but in every other aspect. The colors, the shapes- Jehan's house was a mess of color. Trinkets lined the tabletops, the wallpaper was speckled with unidentifyable patterns that one could stare at for hours and never make sense of and Isabella was almost certain of that being an actual human skull sitting on a small table near the door. Jehan's house was overwhelming, and if he did live here alone Isabella would not be particularly surprised. There was so much beauty and life in this house, that it being occupied by only Jehan and his housekeeper hardly mattered in the slightest.

He nodded in answer to her question, not seeming particularly upset by the fact at all. "Most of my friends have no idea I live in a place like- _Courfeyrac, put it down_!"

The law student, holding the kitten under one arm, jumped and quickly placed what looked like a colorful wooden block on the table where he had found it. "_Sorry_. I'm merely curious, is all." He gazed around the room in amazement. "Jehan- I had no idea! Out of all of us, I wouldn't have figured you would live in a place such as this! Bourgeois, certainly- do not take that the wrong way, mon ami. It is nice."

Jehan snorted. "I hadn't intended to inform you of it anytime soon. My parents pay for it all."

"I think it's absolutely lovely, Jehan," Isabella spoke up softly from where he had placed her on a chair. She frowned as the fine fabric quickly became damp under her, and hoped that her wet clothing wasn't ruining the chair. That would be a horrible way to repay Jehan's hospitality. However, if the poet noticed anything, he didn't say a word.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Jehan smiled at her gratefully and Isabella realized that he was uncomfortable having Courfeyrac in his house. Before she could say anything, however, there was a large clatter from the other room and all three of them jumped. Jehan's head snapped towards the door and his brow creased.

"Is everything alright?" Courfeyrac asked in concern. Jehan shook his head.

"Excuse me," he muttered, quickly darting into the opposite room. Isabella frowned, biting her lip. Had the old housekeeper fallen? She started to get up, but Courfeyrac shook his head.

"No, stay," he said. "You ought to sit still until you can get warm."

She stared up at him, surprised enough to stop moving. He didn't seem to have any malicious intent in his words and his face was nothing but earnest. Isabella just _didn't get it_.

"What's your deal?" She blurted out without thinking, and was immediately shocked at her words. She had almost sounded rude.

He blinked at her, not seeming to understand, so she sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just... I don't understand. You recognize me?"

"Yes."

"And you don't say a word?"

"Do I have a reason too?"

Isabella blinked. "Do you _need_ one?"

Courfeyrac shrugged, leaning against the wall facing her. He raised an eyebrow charmingly and Isabella began to get frustrated. "I'm not sure. What do you think? Do I need a reason? Should I say anything to Jehan?"

"No- well, yes, I suppose- uh, I don't know. If you want, fine, but... I would rather you didn't." Her gaze fell to her lap and it took a good deal of effort not to look up at the student. She was sure that if she did he would see her blush.

He sighed but still failed to attract her gaze. After a moment he seemed to decide to get right down to the pressing questions. "Were you the one who released him?"

"Uh- yeah. That was me. I wasn't supposed to."

"Why?" His voice sounded sincere, honestly curious, and Isabella glanced up at last to look at him.

"I... I don't know." She snorted, feeling rather stupid. "I guess I just didn't want him to be stuck in a cage is all."

"Do you have any intent of hurting him?"

The words shocked her, and her eyebrows involuntarily shot up towards her hairline. How could she ever want to hurt Jehan? "No! Of course not!"

"Then I have nothing to worry about." He crossed his arms, and Isabella mimicked him. A confident smirk spread across his face, and it only succeeded in confusing Isabella even more.

"I don't get it. You didn't react this way to Noelle. Why are you acting like this now?" A sort of wistful look overcame Courfeyrac's face for a mere second- barely obvious, but Isabella just picked up on it before it was gone. The smirk returned however, and he replied:

"Let's say that I have met someone who has shown me the errors in my thinking. She has told me much about you and your friends."

"Who is she?"

He didn't say a word, merely shook his head. She snorted in annoyance. "It's Avielle, isn't it?" His wide grin told her all she needed to know. "I knew it! The girl never could stop talking! So," she asked with a tiny smile, "What does my dear friend Avi have to say about me?"

"She says that you've been head over heels in love with Jehan ever since you were fourteen and that your mother is somewhat psychotic."

"She isn't psychotic!" Isabella exclaimed indignantly. Despite what Avielle insisted, Mom _loved_ her. She always had. "What Avielle calls emotional manipulation, I call tough love. Don't listen to her." His grin vanished and she realized that he could have been offended. "Oh, I don't really mean that!" She amended hastily. "It's just, Avielle doesn't like my Mom much."

"And why is that?" She bristled, and he looked slightly alarmed. "I don't mean to offend," he added, "Only, I often find that most people have specific reasons to dislike others. Why does Avielle dislike your mother?"

"I..." Bella trailed off. This wasn't right. She shouldn't be saying anything about her mother at all, her mother who loved her so much. She shouldn't say anything to this stranger, and so she drew back into herself, into her own mind, drawing her gaze down to the floor and murmuring, "It's nothing. i just don't want to talk about it."

Courfeyrac did have a certain level of tact and, more importantly, the gift of being able to read people easily. He could tell that Isabella meant no harm to Jehan, and he could tell that while she was fond of her friend this was a subject she was not comfortable on. So he let the subject drop with a dismissive word and a shrug, and was rewarded with the smallest smile of gratitude.

"Margeaux nearly lit herself alight," Jehan announced, returning to the room. Isabella's eyes widened in surprise.

"Oh, is she alright?"

"Yes, of course, she's fine," Jehan added hastily, seeing that he had alarmed her. "There's a fire in the parlour, so you can get warm. Courfeyrac-"

The other man pushed himself away from the wall and held up his hands, his usual grin returning to its place. "That's alright, I know when I'm not wanted. I'll go."

"Oh, you don't have to."

"No, it's quite alright. It's nearly five o'clock anyways, I ought to be going now. Good day, Mademoiselle," he nodded towards Isabella and then towards his friend, and was out the door.

They started after him in silence for a moment. "Did he seem-" Isabella hesitated, unsure whether to continue. "In a hurry to you?"

Jehan shrugged beckoning her towards the parlour door. "He's Courfeyrac. He more than likely is planning something or other, and I typically try not to get involved, lest the burning wrath of Enjolras should fall upon me."

"Ah," Isabella nodded before gasping upon entering the parlour. It was a wide room with two large windows covered by long green velvet curtains. The floors were the same wood as in the foyer, however in the middle of the room there was a large white carpet that stretched across the floor, upon which a couch and two chairs surrounding a round wooden table were placed. This table was adorned with a little silver tea set that reminded Isabella of a set Lucille used to play with as a child. There was a little table against that wall upon which was placed an object in a jar that Isabella had no way of identifying but which looked almost as if it were moving. Near the window there was a large polished wooden piano that looked as if it was rarely played. The keys were rather faded but the intricate cravings more than made up for that. And sure enough, there was a large fireplace with a roaring fire.

"Oh!" Isabella exclaimed, head darting around the room as she tried to take in every last breathless detail. It was beautiful. "This is..." As she approached the fireplace she stopped several feet away near the piano. She could only stare at it for a moment breathlessly, before reaching out a slightly trembling hand to touch one of the keys. She drew back at the last second, her hand snapping up to her chest.

"Do you play?"

She jumped as Jehan appeared next to her, presenting the question as quietly as he moved. She hadn't even heard him approach. "Oh," she laughed softly, maneuvering over towards the fireplace and pulling one of the chairs over sitting down in front of it. "Yes. My mother had my sister and I take lessons. Lucy preferred the violin, but I chose the piano." She smiled at the memory of two little girls, one light and one dark, playing in harmony and the tiny audience applauding for both of them. "That was when I was little, though," she added softly. "I don't play much."

He pulled the other chair next to her and handed her one of the little silver cups. "Neither do I. I only play three or four pieces."

"This is a very nice house. It's awfully charming." Isabella chose to change the subject for the simple reason that the thought of the joyful hours that she and Lucille had spent practicing their instruments together sent her into a sort of melancholy that she disliked. She didn't want to think about back home now. She was here, with Jehan, and she wasn't sure which world felt more like a dream- this world or the one she came from.

"My parents insisted upon it. They wouldn't have me live in some apartment when I could live in an actual house."

"Ah. They're rich?"

"Very. I did not want to show any of the Amis this place..."

"And why not?"

Jehan sighed, staring into his teacup as if it contained the words he was searching for. "I felt some sort of shame, I suppose. Courfeyrac rejects his participle, and this house is all that Enjolras could have, coming from the same background as myself, only he chooses not to. His parents are fond of him so they don't object, but I... I accepted my parents' offer."

"And so you feel ashamed?" Isabella's voice was soft, and it soothed his nerves. He nodded and she met his eyes, her gaze understanding. "You have no reason to."

He nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. "Of course. My friends are wonderful and I am sure they would not judge me based on where I live, just as they do not judge Feuilly. I visited his home just today and honestly it was nothing like I had imagined."

"How so?"

"His neighbor is a prostitute and Courfeyrac almost managed to get a free show."

"_Oh_." She blinked, scrunching up her nose. Of all the things she had been expecting to hear about Feuilly's place, that was not it. Jehan couldn't help but burst out laughing at her expression, and she joined him because she realized that she probably did in fact look remarkably silly and the picture of Courfeyrac leaning out the window and shouting catcalls to Feuilly's neighbor was just too perfect not to laugh at.

When they had both calmed down, Isabella resumed her looking around the room. Aside from a few portraits here and there, the walls were relatively bare. She spotted something that she hadn't noticed before- a bookshelf near the door. Jumping up from her seat, she strode over to it and examined the titles. His head turned towards her and his eyes followed her curiously as she ran a finger across the spines of the books, reading each title aloud to herself.

"_The Social Contract_," she murmured, the side of her hand stroking a blue book's gold lettering. "_Emile, The Spirit of the Laws, Philosophical Dictionary, Essays on the Manners of Nations_... fascinating stuff, very political. I'm impressed."

Moving on, her head tilted upwards as she studied the books on the second shelf. "_Socrates, Mariamne, Hamlet_..._ Hernani, Poesies, The Persians, The Oresteia_... wow. Okay, this just got really interesting." She gently pulled a thin book from the shelf and studied the cover, tracing the title. "It's all so Romantic..."

He hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware that she might find his collection silly or dislike them. Perhaps she wasn't poetic herself, perhaps she didn't understand... but he stopped himself. He reminded himself that he and Isabella had talked before, about poetry and such. She had shared that poem with him. She would be able to see the beauty in his books, he was sure of it.

She looked up suddenly, a gleam of light in her eyes and a small smile playing at her lips. "Do you have anything by Poe?"

He shook his head. "Who's Poe?"

She grinned, crossing the room in three bounds, not putting the book down. "Oh, Poe is my favorite poet! I mean, I don't really read that much poetry, but he's absolutely incredible. Some of the stuff he writes is so dark- I don't like dark things, but he phrases it in such a way that it seems magical, almost. I don't suppose you would have heard of him- he's American. Some of his work just has a sort of dream-like quality to it- it's incredible. My favorites are Annabel Lee and A Dream Within a Dream. The latter really makes you sort of sad, but it makes you think- what is real, and what isn't? Can we really keep anything forever, or will all just slip away?"

He pondered for a moment these questions as she paused. These were questions that he had asked himself before and had never been able to find an answer too. Based on Isabella's expression, she had experienced the same.

She took a deep breath, a small smile on her face, and continued. "And yet, the former is just so beautiful in its melancholy. It represents the type of love I wish I could have- undying and unmovable, even in death. Something like that..." She trailed off, a dreamy look in her eyes that suggested that she was currently in a different world.

He watched her for a moment, wondering at the detached gaze in her eyes. Her brown orbs were wide and unseeing, staring off into space as if she were watching some great performance in the heavens that only she could see. He was taken by surprise when she began to speak again, not even seeming to realize what she was saying.

"It was many and many a year ago... in a kingdom by the sea... that a maiden there lived whom you may know... by the name of Annabel Lee."

The words took him away, as poetry always did, into his mind, where he saw it all as she recited. He saw the beautiful woman running down the shore, long brown hair flying freely behind her as she laughed, and he saw the man, the man with blond hair and blue eyes, join her. They laughed, and they kissed, and they loved. They loved fiercely and passionately, they loved like they were the only two beings in the world. The angels frowned down upon them for their love, and then the world grew dim.

He saw, to the rhythm of Isabella's voice, the beauty fall ill. He saw the tears of her lover as she took her last breath, as her brown eyes closed, never to open again. Yet he saw the love that still remained, long after her death, and he saw the bond unbreakable, and as the last line of the poem was read he opened his eyes and he saw Isabella gazing at him earnestly, trepidation barely hidden in her tone.

"Did you see it? I saw it. I always see it. It's why I love that poem so much."

He nodded, and she smiled, relief evident in her face, relief that he understood. "I knew you'd see it. You probably saw yourself, right? As the man? Well, I always see myself as the woman, as Annabel Lee." He felt troubled by this, in the back of his mind, and he wondered if he had really ought to be worried. That Isabella would imagine herself dying tragically like that-

"When I die, I hope that someone will love me like that. If I could ever be worthy of such love- now, that's another thing entirely. But I should hope so. I really do." She didn't add that when she pictured the poem in her mind she saw him, and he didn't add that he had seen her.

"I would like to read these poems." Jehan's words seemed to startle her, and her head snapped towards him almost reflexively.

"Oh?" She shook her head, with a small smile. "Well, I might be able to obtain a copy- maybe later. But now-" She shook her head, staring into the fire. "But now, I can't possibly obtain one... so I guess we're just gonna have to wait."

Her words puzzled him sometimes, he realized. When she spoke, it sounded strange. She used words that he had never heard before and terms that came out sounding strange. He shook it off, however- she might get offended if he mentioned it, and the last thing he wanted to do was offend her.

She was no longer looking at him, instead gazing at the piano with a sort of wistful smile on her face. "You certainly like the piano," he observed.

"Oh, yes. My sister and I used to play together- this little song, beautiful really. Even though she doesn't like the piano, she played with me. I love playing the piano- at least, what I can play of it, which isn't much."

"Would you like to play something?"

His question startled her, and her face took on a blank, surprised look as she blinked at him. "Oh, I- well, I- I couldn't, really. I don't... I don't play... for people."

"But you can play?"

"Yes."

"Well, go ahead, then. Just pretend as if I'm not even in the room."

She didn't reply, training her eyes on the ground and biting her lower lip. "I'd like very much to hear you play," he added in a soft voice.

At this her head shot up, and a look that could have been disbelief or delight flickered across her face for half a second before she resumed her previous expression. "I- I can't."

He nodded, not wanting to press the issue any further. Suddenly he was struck with an idea- probably not his brightest idea, but an idea all the same, and he was never one to ignore ideas. "I'll play. You would only have to listen, if that isn't too painful for you."

Isabella's mind was alight. Jehan Prouvaire was offering to play his piano for her. It sounded like something straight out of a novel, and Isabella could hardly believe it was really happening. She felt ashamed that she couldn't play for him- she would screw up, she knew, and he would laugh at her and she wouldn't be able to take it and might even die right on the spot. But he was willing to listen to her- wanting to, even- it gave her chills. He actually thought that she was worth listening to, and even after she rejected him he offered to play for _her._

_"_God yes," she blurted without thinking, and immediately turned pale, a hand flying to her mouth. Really. Really, she had said that. Wow, she hated herself. How could she have just said that, something so stupid, so indescribably foolish, to _him? _She wanted to melt into the floor. "I- I mean... yes, yes, please."

He frowned, the bewildered expression on his face making her all the more ashamed of her words. "Sometimes, mademoiselle, you say the oddest things."

She shrugged. "Uh, it's a habit. An American thing, I suppose."

He nodded slowly, sitting down at the little piano bench. "Right. An American thing."

She blushed, realizing exactly how silly her words sounded. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe he would just be so caught up in the piano that he would just forget that she had said anything at all. As she joined him on the bench, she sighed. "So, what song are you going to play for me?"

"One of the only ones I know," he replied softly, examining the keys. "I don't need the sheet for it, I know it. It's sort of dull, though."

"I don't mind."

And so, with a small nod, he began playing.

The opening chords captured her attention right away- they were slow and almost calculating, seeming to wait for each chord to meet each other. It was a slow melody that abruptly picked up pace as he got into the actual song. The song itself was basically the same three chords repeated over and over again in a steady rhythm, and Isabella could see why he knew this song, of all songs he could know. It was relatively simple, a beginner's song, and she understood why he had warned her it would be boring.

She was suddenly seized by the desire to play, to actually play the piano with him, and she very nearly shook it out of her head. That was foolish. She couldn't play with Jehan, she couldn't play with anyone. She didn't even know the song, and her playing wasn't at all good, and if she screwed up Jehan might get angry at her, and even if she didn't screw up her might be angry at her for ruining the song. What right did she, of all people, have to intrude on his placid little melody?

And yet the song seemed to call out to her, seeming as if it were begging for someone to add to it, to make it even more beautiful than it already was, and she found her hand slowly slide up to one of the keys, far from where Jehan's hands worked methodically. She realized at the last moment and she almost drew her hand back when she looked over at Jehan and his eyes met hers. _Go on,_ they seemed to say, and she saw one of his hands move a bit closer to hers, making the repeated melody go a bit higher. Looking at him, it occurred to her that he might not scorn her playing, perhaps he would even like it, and his encouragement gave her the strength she needed to tentatively press on one of the keys, making a high sound that to her ears sounded gruesome. She looked over at him again, eyes wide and apologetic, but he was actually… smiling at her, as if he had actually liked the sound of the note combined with his. Swallowing, she pressed down on two keys consecutively, one after the other, and glanced at him again. He no longer was watching her, eyes turned back to his hands, but his face wore a sort of contented smile that encouraged her to continue.

So she played over him, her notes much higher than his and he playing the same strands of melody. Yet somehow, this song that she imagined should have sounded ghastly came out sounding almost poetic itself, a sort of light, romantic quality to it that she adored. And so she let herself go, allowing her fingers to fly across her little area where he played, sometimes drawing so near to Jehan's hand that she could almost touch him, and they played together.

Then, suddenly, it went wrong. Isabella was so caught up in watching him, the intense focus in his face as he played, that her fingers slipped. She hit the wrong note and suddenly the sound came out far higher than it should have. She withdrew her hand as if she had been burned, a short gasp emitting from her lips as she felt tears well up in her eyes. She had done it. She had ruined the song, such a beautiful song…

"_My dear, you can't possibly ever hope to be beautiful, not like Lucille…"_

"_Lucille plays so beautifully, Isabella, why can't you play like that? You can hardly play. Try being more like Lucille."_

"_That sounds horrible! Can't you play at all, girl?"_

"_You call that playing?"_

"_Well done Mademoiselle Isabella. You ruined the song. Thank you for that. I try to play for you and you go and ruin it? Who are you to do such a thing?"_

Voices echoed in her head and she bit her lip hard until she could swore she tasted blood. She lost the ability to tell which words were real and which words her mind fabricated, she could hardly even remember who spoke. But she knew the last voice was Jehan's.

Suddenly, she felt a gentle nudge at her shoulder, pulling her back to earth. It was Jehan, his brow creased in concern. He still played, and hadn't stopped when she had. He had changed the rhythm a bit, and with a start Isabella realized that it still sounded beautiful.

He inclined his head towards the piano, a questioning look in his eyes. She shook her head. She wasn't good enough to play with him. She wasn't good enough for him. _She wasn't good enough._

And then he smiled at her.

She had once read that poets have some of the most expressive faces in the world. She supposed that that was because of all of the pent up emotion inside of them. They had to let it out somewhere, so they found two suitable outlets- their words and their face. And Jehan was no different.

But his smile- oh, his smile, which managed to convey absolutely everything one would hope to convey in a smile- reassurement, confidence, happiness, trust, whatever was in demand at the time. On top of the fact that on a normal day his smile would make Isabella absolutely melt, this smile effected Isabella so profoundly that she was snapped back to reality with a jolt. Those voices were her mother, all of them. Jehan had never said anything like that, it was all in her head. And she hadn't ruined the song, she had made it more beautiful. She recalled his words of earlier. He had wanted to hear her play, and he still did. He liked her playing, and wanted her to continue. And so, with a deep breath, she rose both hands to the keys and resumed her playing.

She played with a new found confidence. She was making Jehan happy. He wanted to hear her play and she was playing just for him, and he was playing with her. They sounded beautiful together, and she was just as good as he was. He liked playing with her as much as she liked playing with him. And, to her surprise, she actually believed herself for once.

As the song came to a slow close, the two musicians exchanged shy smiles. Isabella withdrew her hands from the keys first, ending her part, but Jehan came to a slow, peaceful close, and when the last note finally died out they were both grinning openly.

"Oh, that was wonderful! Thank you!" Isabella exclaimed, flinging her arms around his neck without thinking. Surprised, he tensed up and she drew back, blushing. "Sorry. I just… a bit too forward there, huh?"

"You seem to do that a lot."

"I've made a habit out of it, it appears." She laughed nervously before meeting his gaze again, genuine gratitude on her face. "I mean it. Thank you. I almost had a breakdown there, and you pulled me out of it. I don't know how I can thank you for that."

"I think you thanked me quite enough earlier this morning." He was the one turning red now, and Isabella laughed shortly through her teeth.

"Oh, that? Yes, well… I'm sorry about that, but I had to distract you."

"Are you going to explain to me how we somehow ended up outside?"

"Magic." She shrugged her shoulders and he sighed, but seeing as that was the only answer he was going to get on the matter, he let the subject drop.

"It's stopped raining," she observed suddenly, noticing the skies beginning to clear out the window.

"So it has."

"I suppose that means we're free to go our separate ways now."

"It seems so."

Desperate to break the awkwardness of the exchange, Isabella took his hand in hers. He started and nearly pulled away, but relaxed into her touch. "Thank you," she whispered, standing from the bench. "I can show myself out." Before he could protest she slipped out of the room, and had almost made it to the front door when she heard him call after her.

"Wait, mademoiselle! Isabella, wait!" She turned back to see him come running up to her, something clutched in his fist. "I almost… forgot to give this to you…" he panted, holding out his hand to reveal a crumpled blue hair ribbon. Isabella's eyes widened as she delicately took it out of his palm.

"Oh. Thank you. I… I didn't even realize that I had lost this."

"You're quite welcome- I figured you would certainly want it back." He blushed and preformed a sort of mock-bow, making her grin. She pretended to curtsey.

"Well, thank you monsieur. Good day to you."

"And to you, mademoiselle."

Isabella waved to the cat once and then she was off, laughing in spite of herself.

-XXXXXXX-

Isabella and Jehan were missing.

This was not good, obviously. Even though Avielle was so convinced that they would be fine, Elsa wasn't so convinced. _I mean, they're _teenagers_ for chrissakes. Bella's sixteen and Jehan has to be the youngest Ami, probably around eighteen, nineteen. Who knows what they're doing?_ Worries danced through Elsa's mind all morning, and not just about the Bella/Jehan escapade. Ally and Eponine still hadn't returned, Bridget had taken off like a madwoman and no one had any idea where Maddy, Noelle, Marleni and Azelma had gotten off to. Really, with most of the Amigas wandering around Paris somewhere, who knew what could happen? What could Elsa do but worry?

And then there was her dream. Her crazy, crazy dream which she had dreamt so many times before, but now it had been changed. Combeferre was actually talking, moving, walking around on his own, and it had shattered the fabric of her dream, warping it into an unrecognizable plane of nothingness. And she still didn't have any answers as to why, which bothered her to no end. She needed to know why. That was her job, one of her greatest purposes in life- to find out exactly what was going on and determine a reason for it. That was how Elsa worked, and she didn't like not knowing why.

She considered maybe it was some sort of psychic connection that the two shared, which was possible. Perhaps it had simply never happened before because they were in two different worlds. Or maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe it had never happened at all, maybe she had just imagined it. But it had felt so _real... _She started to miss home, her lab and her dream journal and her notes. Surely if she was there, she could figure it all out.

Home. That was another thing. No one else seemed to be thinking about this, but that was another thing that Elsa took pride in- always thinking what no one else thought. She had to ask the hard questions, or else who would? As easy as it would be to get sucked in to this incredible fantasy, she had to examine the realities of the situation. What exactly had happened to them? From what she could deduce, it seemed as if there had been some sort of power surge, or that the house had been struck by lightning. If so, couldn't that kill them? Could it be true, that maybe they were all dead, fried to death or burned beyond recognition in Ally's room? And where exactly had the plothole come from? Things like that don't simply appear out of nowhere, at least not from what Elsa read. Perhaps, she mused, they weren't even here at all- perhaps this entire setting is all just a dream.

But if it wasn't, then what was to become of them? Surely this couldn't last forever. How were they supposed to get home?

More importantly, would they get home?

Elsa had the answers to none of these questions, and it was nearly driving her insane.

So she occupied herself with searching Jehan's cell, looking for any clue as to where they'd gone. She found little- empty breakfast plates, the bucket from the night before (emptied, thank god) and Bridget's notebook, which Elsa placed on her bed. That was all there was, but Elsa was sure that there had to be something else, something that would answer at least one of her questions. So she kept looking.

"Hey! Madame Inspector!"

Elsa turned her head just enough to see Avielle enter the cell, usual grin fixed on her face. "Oh. Hi, Avi." Undeterred by the simple greeting, Avielle sat herself on top of the little breakfast table, swinging her legs and nearly kicking over the pile of dishes.

"Come on. What's wrong with you today?"

Elsa frowned. She considered denying it, but knew that Avielle knew her too well. "I don't know. Thinking, I guess."

"About what?"

Elsa shrugged, picking the pillow up off of the cot and trying to make it as presentable as possible. "It's the twenty eighth."

"Yeah." Avielle nodded, raising an eyebrow. "So?"

"So, we've been here since Friday night. It's Sunday now."

Avielle snorted, pulling on one long curl. "Ah, yeah, you always get sort of down on Sundays. Well, newsflash sweetie, _you don't have to_!" She jumped off the table, grabbing Elsa's hands and spinning her around the room. "C'mon, Els. Come out with me tonight! I have a date later on, but it's not late now. We can probably get Ally to go too. We can go out, just the three of us. Have some fun, maybe pick up a barricade boy or two? You never know, you might meet your _dream guy_..."

Elsa raised her eyebrows, pulling her hands away before Avielle could crush her fingers. "Is that a pun?"

"You really have to ask?"

Elsa sighed, sitting down on the cot. "Avielle, Isabella's missing and I-"

"Isabella's fine! You can solve everything tomorrow. Come with me and have some _freaking **FUN!**"_

Elsa blinked at her friend who was nearly bouncing around the room. Had she ingested a lot of sugar, or was she just having a really good day? She sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"Not at all." Avielle put on her best wide-eyed-innocence face that almost equaled Isabella's, and Elsa couldn't refuse.

"Oh, fine. I'll go with you."

"YES! OMG, Elsa, I love you! We're gonna have so much fun!"

Elsa felt dread as soon as Avielle actually pronounced the word _OMG_.

This would _not_ be fun.

**_AN: And thus everyone except Bridget is out partying. Good for her, right?_**

**_Guys, I need some specific feedback here. I'm just gonna ask you, because I've been sort of worried about how my characters are doing- which Amiga is your favorite, and who do you think is the most developed? Do you think any of them are coming off as too Sue-ish?_**

**_Once again, love you guys, love the reviews, thank you so_**_ much._


	21. In which we have shady dealings

"This was a bad idea. Am I the only one who thinks this was a bad idea?"

From the way Ally looked at her, Elsa quickly deduced that she was certainly not the only one unhappy with their current surroundings- some weird cafe that none of the girls knew the name of but which had a very large number of slightly inebriated students inside. No Amis, but still.

"Oh, come on, Elsa!" Avielle exclaimed with a wide grin. "This is gonna be totally awesome! We'll pick up some guys!"

"I don't-" Ally began, but Avielle interrupted her with an unfazed look.

"I have connections. I can get Enjolras here for you."

Ally blinked slowly, and Elsa wondered with a faint sense of dread exactly what connections Avielle was referring to. Knowing her, it was probably Patron-Minette or even _Thenardier_. To her horror, a faint smile slowly appeared on Ally's face. Surely she wasn't going to let Avielle get Montparnasse to kidnap Enjolras, or-

"Fine. I'm in."

"Ally!"

Ally looked over at her with a shrug. "Elsa."

"Connections-"

_"Enjolras!"_

"Patron-Minette-"

_**"ENJOLRAS."**_

_Priorities, _Elsa thought with a frown and a shake of her head._ Ally has hers. I have mine. Time to get out of here and-_

"Hey, I think I saw Combeferre chatting with that guy today." Avielle exclaimed, pointing out a young student at a table in the corner with his head bent over a book. Elsa spun around, a rabid look in her eyes.

_"Where?!"_

Priorities. Elsa had hers, just like Ally. And right now, her main priority was Combeferre. And somehow, she felt like that was just fine. And no, Avielle was not consciously trying to influence her mood and calm her down. Not at all.

_-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-_

When the gaggle of screaming girls fell through the ceiling, Bridget somehow managed not to display any sign of alarm. This was quite the feat, considering she had previously been fully immersed in the fifth Harry Potter book, and the last thing one expects to hear when reading about Dolores Umbridge is someone screaming. Nevertheless, Bridget managed to keep her cool and merely watched as the tangle of screaming fangirls began to seperate themselves.

"That was _epic_!" Maddy howled, doing a sort of summersault and landing flat on her back. She laughed and stretched out, seeming to Bridget as if she were trying to reach the door from across the room.

"Those guys were so easy!" Marleni exclaimed, fixing her hair. This, of course, caught Bridget's attention and she sat up with a jolt. What had they _done?_

_"What happened?"_

Noelle's head shot towards her and her smile grew even wider. "Oh, hey Bridget! We didn't notice you."

Oh, the irony. "Really? _Really?"_

"We picked up guys!" Marleni exclaimed, jumping onto Bridget's bed and burrowing into the blanket.

"Correction," Noelle put in. "Azelma picked up guys. We just played with them."

"You know," Bridget commented dryly, "This is really not sounding good for you."

"What she means," Maddy spoke up with a teasing grin, "is that Azelma and Lena lured some guys into an alley and we practiced our powers on them. I hypnotized, Noelle put to sleep. It was fun."

Bridget blinked. She had always known that Maddy had an odd perception of the word _fun_, but surely this was a complete misinterpretation. Surely even_ Maddy_ couldn't call that fun.

Noelle bit back a small smile and shrugged at Bridget's incredulous look. "It was pretty cool. I mean, these powers are awesome- there's such a thrill in using them."

"Yeah, well, you got the cool powers," Bridget replied.

Marleni frowned, hugging a pillow. "Your power's cool. Kind of like being invisible. You should be thankful for it, Bridget. I like my power. I can speak any language without any trouble." Reaching over to Bridget, she grabbed a couple strands of her hair and began twisting it into a complicated braid. This, Bridget had found, was an impulse of Lena's- often she could be found either braiding other's hair or her own. Marleni's hair wasn't the best for braiding- it was wild and had the tendency to fly everywhere- but she loved some of the other Amigas' hair. Bridget's reached past her shoulders, brown and straight, and Marleni often amused herself by twisting it into complicated swirls. Bridget had noticed that the few times she had seen Marleni's little sister Marisa, the child was always toting a little scuffed doll, whose hair always seemed to be in a sort of tangled braid- as was, for that matter, the little girl's. She was unsure as to wheter this indicated hair braiding was a Cortes family trait or wheter Marleni simply used anyone's hair she could get a grip on.

"Well, I've always had that power- it's nothing new. And in my dream I never actually used my power. The only ones I saw in action were Maddy, Elsa, Avi, Elle and Bella. I'm not even sure I got most of the powers right... I was simply informed of them."

Noelle frowned, tilting her head sideways. "Wait, how did you see Elsa's power? Supermemory isn't really that obvious."

Bridget shrugged. "I don't know. I saw her flipping through a book and then quoting a passage word-for-word... that's supermemory, right?"

"How'm I supposed to know?"

Bridget nodded, conceeding that point to Noelle. She winced as Marleni tugged a bit too hard, and the tiny girl stopped her weaving for a moment. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Bridget shrugged, eyeing Azelma. The ex-gamine leaned against the wall. Her hair had been fixed up in an elegant topknot, no doubt Marleni's doing, but it had fallen out of place sometime this evening. Strands of hair stuck out haphazardly from around her head and her skin was pale, although she looked fairly content. Bridget noticed that Azelma didn't talk much- not in the novel, either. She almost smiled- Azelma was alot like her. Maybe they could be friends, later.

Maddy, still on the floor, rolled over onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbow, placing her chin in her palm. "So, Bridget. Did you find the notebook?"

"Yeah..." Bridget nodded slowly. "It's back where it belongs now, it's fine. I just wish that Bella had-" She cut herself off, realizing that she should keep quiet, but it was too late. Maddy's eyes widened and she grinned.

"Bella? Isabella?! She took your notebook? You're kidding!"

"She also set Jehan free and nearly got mugged."

Maddy cracked up, a jovial sort of laughter that even Bridget couldn't help grinning at. "So," Maddy exclaimed once she finally calmed down, "our little Bella's a badass now, hmm?"

"Hardly," Bridget snorted. "Gavroche had to take the guy out. They nearly killed her."

"Did she fight back?"

"Tried too."

"Then it counts," Maddy replied decisively, and Bridget could tell that she wouldn't listen to arguments. "Anyway, Jehan? What're they up to?"

"Nothing like that!" Marleni exclaimed in alarm. "Not Bella! Bella's a good girl."

"Of course she is," Noelle replied, sending a small smile her way. "I'm sure they won't get up to anything bad. They're both old enough to know not to do anything rash."

"'Ow old's she?" Azelma, who had been listening to this whole conversation, finally spoke up from her corner.

"Sixteen," Marleni replied absently. "Same as most of us. Ally and Elsa are seventeen, Maddy's fifteen."

"So'm I," said Azelma with a shy smile at Maddy, which was met by a beaming grin.

"See? We're all adults here. I think we're quite capable of acting so." Bridget played with the sleeve of her shirt as Maddy stood.

"Yeah. We can make adult descisions too, which is why you don't see anyone paniking about Elsa, Ally and Avielle out who knows where doing who knows what. They're adults."

"Yeah, Maddy, you can make real grown up descisions," Marleni teased. "Especially last week, when you thought it would be a good idea to take my little brother and try to grease his hair with mayonaise. That was real adult."

Maddy waved a hand at her dismissively. "Carlos was fine. He's four, kids that little don't notice things in their hair. And I am very capable of making grown up descisions, thank you very much!" As if to prove her point, she climbed the ladder very carefully and sat on her own bunk, leaning against the wall.

"Oh, really?" Noelle laughed gently as she climbed up to join her. "Like what, exactly?"

Maddy sniffed indignantly, putting on an injured air. "I could stay here forever, if I wanted too. I like it here."

Noelle frowned, obviously disliking that reply. "Doesn't really answer my question, Miss Adult."

"Fine, then. College," Maddy replied simply, raising her chin self-righteously.

"College?"

Apparently in spite of herself, a tiny grin appeared on Maddy's face. "Juilliard. Best dance school in the country. Just you wait, guys. I'll be the best pupil there and I'm gonna get famous." She flopped back on the bed, stretching her arms over her head. "I bet you guys don't even know what college you'll be going to."

Bridget glanced up shyly. "Um, I was thinking University of Virginia." Azelma smiled at her, seeming a bit lost. However, Maddy and Noelle didn't seem to hear her . She could hear Gavroche's voice in her head: _Speak up, will ya? _But she couldn't bring herself to- it was probably too late for her to say anything anyway, the moment had passed. Oh well.

But suddenly she heard Marleni's voice from right near her ear. "That's supposed to be a real nice school, right? Cool. I'll have to try really hard for a scholarship, but I'm hoping to stay local too. But I'll take whatever I can get. After all, it really only matters that I can manage to get to college."

Bridget blinked, surprised at the moment of confidance. Marleni rarely shared anything personal with anyone- she had just come to Virginia last year from a foster home with her two little siblings. She was a cheerleader with Maddy, and loved to sing. She lived in, from what Bridget had overheard, a verifiable hell-hole. She lived with six other people in a four room apartment. She had to share a bedroom with her siblings and they didn't even have a computer. She got fair grades but needed help in reading, and that was really all that anyone knew of her besides the fact that she loved the movie and had somewhat of an obsession with Enjolras and Joly. It really made her feel sort of nice to be the one Marleni chose to confide to over something so personal.

"I'm sure you'll get into a good college, Lena. You're smart enough for a scholarship, and you're really good at cheerleading. Do they offer scholarships for that?"

Marleni grinned. "Not sure. They should. Oh," she exclaimed in a louder tone, so that the entire room could hear. "Did I ever tell you guys about the time I was practicing backflips on my bed and I fell out a window?"

That was another thing about Marleni- she had the tendency to ramble on and on about the oddest things whenever she felt like it. They were often entirely absurd, so out there that they could hardly be true. However, no one had found any way to disprove these claims yet, so they could only take them as truth. This was typically either when there was hardly anyone else around or when she just felt really comfortable in her present setting, which wasn't particularly often. But Azelma was quiet enough to hardly be there at all, and while the last word you could use to descirbe Maddy would be quiet, Noelle was a soothing enough presence to her to keep her quiet.

Maddy's head popped up from where she lay face down on her pillow. "No," she said, and Bridget could detect a sort of morbid fascination lacing her tone. Noelle swatted her arm, but she couldn't hide the glint of interest in her eyes. Even Azelma seemed eager to hear, sitting up straighter.

"Oh, it was funny! I was twelve, but I was the size of a nine year old so I could fit through the window, only I didn't think I could, so I did a backflip and I went flying off the bed and out the window. Broke the glass, even. It was on the second floor, too!" She burst into a fit of giggles and had to stop talking. Maddy's eyes were wide.

"Did you die?" She sounded almost eager and Noelle hit her with a pillow.

"Maddy!"

"What?"

Marleni shook her head with a grin. "I didn't die, I'm okay." She smiled at Bridget and leaned back, dropping her hair. "Done."

Bridget hopped off the bed and examined the intricate braid in the mirror. "Wow..." She could barely speak, in awe of the beautiful twist Marleni had added into her hair. "Lena, this is gorgeous!"

Azelma watched her from her seat for a minute before looking up at Marleni shyly. "D'ya think you could do me next?"

"Yeah, I want to have that done too!" Noelle exclaimed. Marleni beamed, looking delighted.

"I have customers now!"

Bridget shook her head, smiling as she didn't feel her hair at her shoulders. This day might have been hell, but tonight wasn't that bad.

-XXXXXXX-

Thenardier knew that most gamins didn't take kindly to being approached in the street at night, but he didn't have much of a choice. He knew that Gavroche knew Paris like the back of his hand. He had spent the whole day searching for his daughters, yet no one had seen them. He had to find Eponine, and he had no choice. Besides, it wasn't like you could really sneak up on the boy anyway. In fact, it was more like Gavroche snuck up on him. Thenardier lost Gavroche about a street or so ago, before he heard an amused voice from behind him.

"Well, if it isn't me ol' dad."

Spinning around, he faced the boy with the cocky, infuriating grin on his face. "Now listen here boy-"

The child he could not truly call his son laughed tauntingly. "Y'know, I don' think I will." He began to turn away but Thenardier snarled in frustration, forcing Gavroche to turn back. It was all too clear that the boy was enjoying this a bit too much, and Thenardier wished that he had another choice.

"Fine, what's up?"

"Your sisters are missing and I need them back," Thenardier snarled, hoping to intimidate the boy. "Don't suppose you've seen them?"

Gavroche crossed his arms and gave a short, barking laugh, leaning against the wall. "My sisters? When've you ever give a half-damn 'bout 'Ponine an' 'Zelma, hmm? What, they got somethin' you want?"

"Yes," Thenardier replied crossly, "And I know you've seen them. Just tell me anything about where they are, what ever you know."

"An' why should I do that?"

Muttering a curse under his breath, Thenardier muttered, "I'll make it worth your while."

At this Gavroche launched into a laughing fit, slapping his thighs. Thenardier wished that he could hit him to get him to shut up, but he was honestly almost afraid of the child. "You pay me!" The boy gasped in mirth. "Oh! What a thought!"

"I will!" Thenardier hissed, lowering his voice so as to not attract too much attention. "Just give me what you know."

The boy grew serious, regarding his father gravely. "I ain't no sell-out," he replied cooly. "You find out yerself. Sure I've seen 'em both, but I ain't tellin' you. You're on yer own 'ere,_ father."_

Thenardier reached out to grab him, but the little boy had already vanished into the darkness of the streets.

He would have the girls, Thenardier vowed. He would get them back no matter what, and all of the cash they brought with them. He wouldn't give up.

_**AN: So sorry for the almost-missed schedule! Finals are right now, and I'm super busy, but this is the best I could manage so late at night. By the way, Marleni's name is pronounced **_

_**(Mar- leh- nee)**_

_**or**_

_**(Leh-nah)**_

_**More Grantaire next chapter!**_


	22. In which Marius has a bad day

"Okay, how well can you flirt?"

Elsa blinked at her friend, a mixture of doubt and horror. in her eyes "Uhh... flirting?" She smiled nervously, subtly leaning away from Avielle. Honestly, she wasn't good at flirting _at all_. Elsa was not a flirt. She hardly even went out. Elsa did not have boyfriends- she did not pick up guys because she, in fact, did not understand guys in the slightest. _That _was Avielle's job, and Elsa was more than happy to leave it all to her. That, she had long since decided, was one of the reasons she loved Combeferre. He was easy to figure out because he was just like her.

But _flirting?_

"Well... I... can talk to guys..." She trailed off awkwardly, leaving her words hanging in midair.

"Ah, yes, but can you flirt?"

"What do you constitute as flirting?" Ally asked, a bored expression written on her face, betraying her true opinions about the entire spectacle going on before her. Ally was, if possible, even less of a party girl than Elsa. There was just so little for her to do at parties, or so she explained it. She was much more content throwing parties than actually attending them- Ally was the sort of person who wanted to do everything for everyone, almost compulsively. Parties were not her cup of tea, and sitting in a bar with her two friends bored her immensely.

"Oh, y'know," Avielle smirked. "Winking, smiling, giggling, sweeping the guys off their feet. And since I can't be here all night, I want to get you two occupied for the evening."

Ally blinked, raising a blonde eyebrow dubiously. "So basically you're trying to get us laid by Enjolras and Combeferre."

"_Well..." _Ally stared at her, obviously not letting her off that easily, so Avielle continued. "Yeah, sort of. I wanted to do something here, but you people aren't any fun at a bar. So, the next logical step would be to get you guys." Avi's wide grin made it impossible to be angry with her. Elsa shook her head with a deep sigh.

"Still, you have to get them here before we can get near them."

"My _god_, Elsa," Avielle exclaimed with a groan, tossing her head back overdramatically. "Aren't you supposed to be smart? It's easy to get to them. Talk to that guy- he might know where Combeferre lives."

"Noelle knows."

"Noelle ain't here," Avielle replied huffily. "And if you know where Combeferre lives then you can plothole there and wait outside the door until he comes home. And since Combeferre and Enjolras are practically married, maybe Enjolras would be with him."

Ally frowned, and exchanged a look with Elsa. It almost seemed as if Avielle was trying to get rid of them, and they didn't like it. Ally, however, had other concerns. "Maybe Enjolras will be there? Just maybe?"

Avielle snorted. "Well, I don't know. I'm not the planner here, I just act on the plans. Planning's your job. Thinking's Elsa's. This is the best I've got."

"Well, I've got better." Ally cleared her throat and the two other fangirls unconsciously leaned forward to hear her.

"In stead of flirting needlessly, why don't we just plothole to Enjolras and Combeferre themselves? We can do that, you know, Eponine and I did it just today. And honestly, I'm not sure if Eponine ever found Marius- we searched for two hours before finally just trying to plothole to him, and then we just left because it wasn't worth it. He was _alone_ in some _field_- the guy sort of scares me, honestly. I mean, can you say vampire, cause I sure can! Anyway," she shook her head with a smirk. "We could just plothole to wherever they are and attack them."

Avielle grinned. "I like that plan. Quicker."

Elsa turned to the younger girl. "And what about you, miss Avi? What could possibly tear you from a good time such as this?"

"Not what," Avielle grinned, "but who."

"Whom," Elsa corrected compulsively, hardly even realizing she had spoken at all. Avielle rolled her eyes good-humouredly, used to Elsa's grammatical tics.

"Fine, then. But go. Seriously, go molest your barricade boys, maybe even try drinking. No liquor laws anymore, so we win."

"Not like you cared about liquor laws anyway," Ally quipped, rising from her seat and holding a hand out to Elsa. "Come on, Elsa. Avi, we'll leave you to your date. We have barricade boys to hunt."

Avielle grinned, very pleased with the result of her pestering. Her friends were the type to ask questions- Elsa always wanted to know and Ally always had to know- but for some reason they had decided to let her off the hook for tonight. She had achieved success. Yes, she wanted to get her friends their men- she had hers, for tonight at least. Not that she would tell Ally and Elsa anything about Courfeyrac. I mean, she loved them to death, but she wasn't an idiot. Ally had reacted rather violently to the news of Isabella's engagement with Jehan, and Avielle certainly didn't want Courf ending up with a concussion. Somehow the thought just made her feel really bad and sort of sick and she really didn't like it.

Hereby, Courfeyrac remained her little secret, and even Ally managed to refrain from asking. Sure, they would ask, but if all went well tonight they would be too preoccupied to even remember her. And that was exactly what Avielle was counting on.

-XXXXXXXXXX-

"Where are we going Courf?"

"I still don't understand why you insist on calling me that," Courfeyrac replied, dragging Avielle through the streets. The sun had long since set, and he knew the perfect place to take her. He hoped that it would be somewhere she would like, because it was one of his favorite places to go. Sunday evenings typically were not the best for dancing at Villette's, but he knew several young men from school who were planning to be there and he figured it would be fun.

"Do you mind?" She asked pointedly.

"Not exactly." He looked back at her and grinned. She shook her head, a fond smile playing on her lips.

"Now where exactly are you taking me?"

"Dancing," Courfeyrac replied as they came up to a brightly lit building. Cheery music floated out of the windows and bright laughter was heard from inside, but the look on Avielle's face was anything by excited.

"What? No!" She exclaimed, her voice coming out higher than Courfeyrac thought it was intended to. She shook her head, backing up a few feet. "Courfeyrac, no. I can't do that."

"And why not?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't dance. Ever."

"Well, can you not try tonight?" He asked, squeezing her hand. She still looked hesitant so her continued. "It will be fine. if you dislike it, we will leave. It really is not so terrible in here, at least once you get to socializing."

She frowned, biting her lip and looking unsure for a moment. Finally she looked up at him with a grin that seemed a bit forced. "Okay. I'll try. However, if I injure your feet, you have only yourself to blame."

-XXXXXXXXX-

It was late and Marius was walking home. Eponine had followed him down winding streets, past beggars who regarded her with undisguised envy, past angry people shouting at each other from their windows. It didn't faze her; she was used to it. Marius never looked up from the book he held, even when he almost was run over by a carriage. Eponine wasn't sure he had even noticed.

She walked up behind him and placed a hand- a well manicured hand, free of calluses and chilblains, thank you very much- on his shoulder. He jumped, making her giggle. "Hello, m'sieur Marius."

"Oh! Hello, Eponine," he greeted, not turning around. She frowned, taking up step beside him as he recommenced walking.

"So, m'sieur, did you notice anything _different _about me today?" She prompted, reaching a hand up to make sure her hair was in order, wishing that she had another mirror. He glanced up from his book for the first time and nearly dropped it in surprise.

"Oh!" He exclaimed in astonishment. "Look at you! Why, you could almost pass for a lady!"

Eponine blinked. Well, _that_ was not the reaction she had been expecting. "Almost, m'sieur? Why, whatever do you mean?"

"You look wealthy, is all. Where on earth did you get the money?"

She grinned smugly, subtly allowing her shoulder to brush his. "Oh, I didn't. I made them _all_ myself! I met these girls yesterday morning and they gave me these really weird power things so I can actually go anywhere I want really easy an' - _and_ I can make anything appear right in front of me. Want a franc?" She held out her palm, revealing a silver coin. "_I_ have a franc now. I made it. Doesn't it look nice, m'sieur Marius? But my dad got really angry with me for not telling him everything and so me and 'Zelma ran away. I've been looking for you all day! I saw you sitting in some field, and I didn't want to disturb you, and then I couldn't find you. Where have you been?"

"At home," Marius replied, seeming a bit overwhelmed by Eponine's torrent of words. "Eponine, you say you have _powers_ now?"

"Yes. They're actually sort of interesting. Do you want to see? Here, I'll show you."

She grabbed the back of his jacket, pulling him with one hand behind a house. She was slightly surprised at how little he struggled.

"Eponine, what are you doing?" She hushed him, shaking her head.

"Quiet. Look." She focused on the dank wall of the house, and slowly but surely a blue light began to appear until it was a shimmering blue hole in the side of the house. Turning to Marius with a proud grin, she gestured to her creation. "See?"

Marius' eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly. "I- um..." He didn't seem to know exactly what to say, or whether he should say anything at all. "You... _actually_ have powers."

"Of course I actually have powers, m'sieur!" Eponine laughed. "Did you think I was lying to you?"

"I did _not_ think that you _actually_ had powers."

"Of course I do. look at it, it's right there."

Marius certainly was looking at it. In fact, he seemed unable to tear his eyes away, half way between traumatized and incredulous. He looked almost like he would faint. Maybe if he did, Eponine would have to help him breathe by breathing air into his mouth like she had seen someone do on a gamin once after he had fallen in the Seine. The man had placed his lips on the gamin's... almost like a kiss... Eponine found herself suddenly very eager for Marius to faint. She wasn't sure if she should be worried by that or not.

"Are you alright, m'sieur?"

Marius blinked, slowly and delibrately. "Eponine?"

"Yes?"

"Where did you say you got these powers from again?"

"Oh!" Eponine exclaimed with what she hoped was a wide smile, showing off her new teeth. "Why, I met these girls in the street. They knew me. I thought they were some sort of gypsy or something. Oh, did I ever tell you about that time this boy I knew went to see a gypsy and never came back? Oh, it was terrible! They all thought they had took him, but then they found him at the bottom of a well. I was younger then. Anyway, these girls gave me these new powers, haven't the slightest idea how they did it, but that's alright because I have them now. So I can look like this!" She smiled proudly, gently leaning against Marius' side and placing her head on his shoulder, and she was almost able to pretend that he didn't squirm away. "Do you like it?" She asked softly. "Now you don't have to be embarrassed to be seen with me."

She waited for the denial. The laughter and the shake of his head, which ruffled those beautiful black curls that wove around his face like midnight. "Of course I'm not embarrassed to be seen with you, Eponine!" he would say, and maybe he would hug her, or take her hand, or something like that, and she could feel safe in his arms like she always did with him.

With Marius, nothing could hurt her and her life felt almost like a bad dream. With Marius she was happy.

But there was nothing, only the bewildered, wide eyed stare, and the realization hit her like a stab in the stomach. He was afraid. Afraid of it, the plothole, but worse, he was afraid of _her._

No, no, no! He shouldn't be afraid of her. That wasn't how it was supposed to happen! She was supposed to impress him, not scare him! He wasn't supposed to fear her, he _couldn't_! Didn't he know that she would _never_ hurt him? She loved him!

"M'sieur Marius?" She asked, her voice coming out much weaker than she had intended. Marius shook his head, backing up several steps before stopping himself.

"I- I am sorry, Eponine. It is just- I have never seen anything like this, and I'm honestly not sure what to make of it."

"Would you like to go through?" Eponine asked suddenly, desperate for another opening. She took his hand in hers and tried to ignore the light feeling in her stomach at the touch of his hand.

"Wha- what?" Marius stammered, sounding surprised. Eponine grinned, pulling him towards the plothole.

"Come on, m'sieur, just step through. It's alright, it won't hurt you."

She grinned as they came up to the plothole. "Eponine, no!" Marius gasped as she threw herself forward, diving into the blue hole and dragging him along with her via the vice-like grip on his hand.

There was darkness- an alarming darkness, as if they were in a world where light had never existed. No, light had never existed, Eponine was almost sure of it. Not here, not in this world of dark. And it was cold, she realized- almost freezing. But she couldn't feel it, not when he limbs were so numb. Dark and cold were the only sensations that she had, and even these occurred to her mildly. There was no sound- the darkness carried with it silence that would have perhaps been frightening had it not been so hard to think, to remember anything. She was neither sitting nor standing, she was surrounded by air on all sides. Perhaps she was floating- she wasn't sure, she couldn't see anything and for a moment she forgot why she was here and where she was going.

But there was a hand- a hand in hers, and like during her escape with Azelma that hand pulled her back to reality. She tried to speak to Marius but her words were drowned out in the silence before they could even leave her throat.

And then, all of a sudden, without any warning, they were flying, fast enough to make your head spin, fast enough to make you nauseous, but you couldn't feel that you were flying, only see it as you flew through the darkness, feeling the stagnant air pushing at you as you went. Eponine gasped, torn between fright and thrill.

And then they were suddenly in front of the Gorbeau tenement, standing hand in hand, facing the building. The darkness, the silence, the flight faded all at once and suddenly Eponine could think again, could remember exactly what she was doing, and aside from the relief of that there was excitement as she turned to Marius, eyes wide in anticipation of his reaction.

However, the only reaction she got was Marius crumpling on the pavement out cold.

Just great.

-XXXXXXXXXXX-

"Where d'you think the others are?" Azelma asked from Noelle's bed. Noelle had generously donated her bed to Azelma for the night and was content sharing one with Maddy, as they often did back home.

"No idea," Maddy replied lazily, lying on her bed and batting at a string that Noelle dangled over her head. "Maybe they're out partying somewhere. Yeah, I could see that- Isabella and Elsa, partying all night. Huh..." She trailed off, glancing at the pink and green clock on the wall. "It's ten o'clock."

"You'll have to excuse Maddy," Noelle said with a roll of her eyes. "She had a little to much to drink tonight, I think."

"You guys got drunk?" Bridget asked in surprise.

"Maddy got drunk. Lena and Zelma didn't want to and I have no interest in that kind of stuff."

"And I'm not drunk." Maddy put in helpfully.

"Sure, sweetie," Noelle replied, patting her on the head. "Anyway, Isabella's just plain missing- knowing Avielle I'll bet that Ally and Elsa are out partying with her somewhere, Eponine's... somewhere too."

"You can never keep track of 'er." Azelma said, examining the cover of one of Bridget's books. She could hardly read, just a few words and sentences that her mother had taken the time to teach her. Eponine could read better than she could, but that was alright. She liked the picture on the cover- a picture of a girl in a long pink dress with gigantic wings. The girl almost looked a bit like her.

"Oh." Marleni nodded, curling up in her covers. "I'm going to bed, then. See you guys in the morning."

"Night, Lena," Noelle whispered, noticing Bridget doing the same.

With two of their party asleep, Noelle and Maddy amused themselves by playing hand games for lack of anything better to do (Maddy had been drunk before, and handled alcohol surprisingly well). Azelma played with the book for a little while before deciding to try and actually read it, and finding that she couldn't.

It was actually peaceful for a short moment, before the peace was shattered by a violent yell.

"What the hell was _that_?" Maddy exclaimed, bolting upright.

"It sounds like someone dyin'," Azelma frowned.

Noelle shook her head, gesturing towards the door. "Pretty sure that's Grantaire. He's been restless all day. I had to put him to sleep about an hour ago, but I guess he woke up."

"And he's angry," Maddy observed.

Marleni groaned, launching her pillow at the door. "Shut up! People are trying to sleep here!"

"Let me _out_, you-" Grantaire added some very creative expletives here that made even Marleni blink in surprise.

"Well, fine, if you're going to be like that-"

"Where are you going, Lena?" Noelle asked as Marleni jumped out of bed and padded towards the door.

"To show him why you don't wake people up at ten at night." She replied angrily, throwing open the door and disappearing inside.

Maddy sighed, laying back down. "Well, this might be fun."


	23. In which Bella nearly kills someone

_Dear Isabella,_

_I know that you probably won't find this, but you said once that if you put a message in a bottle and send it out to sea it will always find someone, and so maybe this will find someone who knows where you are. This isn't a sea but it is a river, so I thought... it might work._

_Where are you, Bella? I miss you. Mom really misses you too. She sits in your room for hours and I saw her crying a bit. She wants you to come home. So do I._

_I hope you aren't hurt somewhere, because if you get hurt and die I'll be all alone. You can't do that. You said that you would never leave me alone, remember? I need you, because I'm going to be turning fourteen soon and you have to be at my party. We already picked out dresses. You got the purple one, with the ruffles. You're going to look so pretty in it, if you'll just come home._

_We had a vigil for you and the other girls. All my friends from school came, and all of your friends too, the ones that aren't missing. There were candles and everything. They got that really pretty picture of you. The one you liked? From school picture day. It's all over the news. You and your friends are national news. People as far away as California have heard about you guys._

_There are huge search parties being sent out, and you have an AMBER alert out for you. The police are still hopeful, and I hope you'll come back soon. The storm was crazy- if you guys went out in it, you could have been hurt or something._

_Please come back. Don't leave me here alone. I need a sister._

_Love,_

_Lucille_

_-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-_

**_Webstem Email_**

_To: allyenjolras _

_From: katieh _

_Subject: Hi Ally_

_Hi Ally_

_I don't know if you can read this but I figure if you check your email you will find this. I just want to say that Meg and I miss you alot. We hope that you're okay. Everyone back here is looking for you. if you can, please come home soon, because Meg's sick again. ~Kate_

_-XXXXXXXXXXXXX-_

Isabella knew that she would have to go back sometime. The problem was, she didn't _want_ to go back. Not with Bridget still mad at her and Ally probably ready to kill her for coming home this late. Isabella soon found it getting dark and she realized with a pang of fear that she was totally screwed.

Lost alone in the dark in Paris was not a very fun (or safe) way to spend the night. She had to find someplace safe, where she could sit or hide or just plain get her thoughts in order, as she was still in a state of shock from the whole "OMG at Jehan's house this is like a dream" incident. However, the reader has already been treated to Isabella's mental deliberations on this topic several times, so we have no need to detail it again.

She needed to find someone who knew their way around Paris, and who knew safe places to sleep at night. Someone who would help her. Someone like (obviously) Eponine. She was the clear choice, seeing as according to Avielle she was an Authoress now, hereby she was an Amiga.

Isabella had to find Eponine, wherever she might be.

-XXXXXXXXXX-

The Gorbeau tenement was a horrible place, and upon stepping out of the plothole Isabella had to marvel at the fact that people could conceivably live there without falling through the floor or getting hit in the head with a loose brick. The house looked near to falling apart and for a moment Isabella dreaded having to approach it before she saw Eponine standing with Marius some distance off, not having seen her.

Actually, to describe the scene properly one would have to say that Eponine was standing, while Marius was crumpled at her feet. The gamine was staring down at Marius in a sort of annoyed bewilderment. Isabella hesitantly approached them.

"Um... excuse me?"

Eponine's head snapped up and she took in Isabella's dirty clothes and ratty hair from being caught in the rainstorm. Isabella realized that she must look homeless and felt a pang of shame over her appearance before realizing that, of all people, Eponine wouldn't care one way or the other. "Who're you?" Eponine asked, a defensive tone to her voice.

"I'm... Isabella. I'm an Amiga too. I'm a friend of Avielle and Elsa."

The gamine's eyes softened as a defensive shield seemed to go down and she nodded at Marius. "Oh, hello. Well, can you help me then? I'm not exactly sure what happened but I believe he passed out. I'm not sure if he's alright."

Isabella knelt down and shook Marius' shoulder, to no response. "Ah- he'll be fine. Let me just try something..."

Eponine watched in bewilderment as Isabella hovered her hands over Marius' head and closed her eyes. Nothing was visibly happening but after a moment Isabella seemed to slump forward as if exhausted and Marius' eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start. "What happened?"

"You fainted, Marius," Isabella replied, her eyes still closed. She looked pale, Eponine noticed. Almost as if she were the one who was about to pass out now.

"Are you alright?"

"Me? Oh, yes. I'm fine. Sorry." She sat up straighter and turned back to Eponine. "Do you need any more help?"

"Yes," Marius said, voice wavering with panic. "Who are _you_ and what in the world was _that_?"

"That," Eponine replied, trying to sound as calm as possible, "was a plothole, or so I've been told."

"And I'm Isabella- an acquaintance of Eponine." Marius, remembering his manners, offered Isabella his hand and helped her up off the ground.

"My apologies, mademoiselle," he said, "I am rather... alarmed at the moment."

"It's alright," Isabella whispered. "I ought to be going now, anyway."

"Yes- it seems that Marius and I ought to have a long talk about this," Eponine said, placing a hand on Marius' shoulder and frowning when he shrunk away from her. She hesitated slightly before saying, "if that is alright with you, m'sieur."

Marius shook his head. "I have so many questions about what I have just seen and so few answers. I feel we _do_ need to speak."

Eponine smiled, clearly pleased with the outcome of her wheedling, and Isabella took this as a signal to depart. With a nod to Marius and a short farewell to Eponine she disappeared down a side street.

She wandered for a short while more before finally deciding to simply take shelter in a bush. Bushes, as you have seen, are fair game for fangirls. in stalking the object of your affection (as Ally and Elsa were doing at that very moment, but that is another story entirely, one involving rope, hairpins and a complete loss of dignity for a certain revolutionary student) one often has to hide in a bush, and so Isabella thought little of it.

-XXXXXXX-

Two dark figures stalked the girl, fully concealed by the shadows that hide everything- the good and the bad. These figures were well versed in the world of the shadow, for they lived in shadow themselves. They moved silently, following the small figure down dark streets and through winding alleys. It was clear that she had no idea where she was headed, and she certainly had absolutely no idea that she was being stalked. If she did, she would never have stopped, and she certainly would never have fallen asleep in a bush.

"This her?" The first figure, a tall, slender man with long, dark hair and narrow features, whispered to his accomplice as they stood over the bush. The girl did not stir.

"This ain't Eponine," the second, a well-dressed, rather pretty young man with rosy lips and raven hair, looked down on the girl with a frown.

"The girl knows her- she was just talking to her and the other guy back there."

"Thenardier wanted us to get his daughter, not some random lady off the street."

"You saw that, 'Parnasse!" The thin man hissed, leaning close to the boy. "This girl can do the same thing the Thenardier girl can apparently do. If Thenardier gets his kid, why don't we get one of our own?"

"Because we don't know who she is."

"When's that ever stopped you?" The man's scornful tone made the dandy press his lips tightly together, turning red.

"It's not stopping me," he snarled through his teeth. "I just... don't know about this one, Babet."

"Shouldn't be hard to nab," Babet observed flippantly. "Such a petite thing- probably so scared that she'll do whatever we want."

"I don't-"

The man suddenly spun on Montparnasse, grasping him by the collar. "If Thenardier's right, whatever thing these girls have going on could get us cash, _big_ cash. More cash than any mugging's ever going to get us. Why does Thenardier really need his girl anyway? You know fully well that he doesn't value any of his brats more than a franc."

Montparnasse frowned, pushing him back. "Eponine ain't-"

"I don't care about her!" Babet exclaimed softly, frustration twisting his features.

"Well, what do you want to do? We couldn't have gotten Eponine anyway- she was with that kid."

"And this girl's all alone."

"But she _isn't_ who Thenardier asked for."

"Well, I want her, then." Montparnasse still seemed hesitant, so Babet leaned close and pointed the boy's gaze towards the girl sleeping in the bush. "Look at that little thing. Such a pretty little _mome_- you like pretty faces, don't you Montparnasse?"

Montparnasse glanced down at the sleeping girl. She was indeed rather pretty, with long brown hair that fell down her back (Why wasn't it pinned up, he wondered absently. A girl dressed like her ought to do something with her hair, not just leave it like that.) and skin that seemed slightly tinted brown in the moonlight. Montparnasse did have a fondness for beauty- especially his own.

"And you know what else this girl is?" Babet hissed, drawing Montparnasse's attention back to him. "Your ticket to bourgeoisie." He suddenly snatched the top hat off of Montparnasse's head and brandished it in front of him, avoiding Montparnasse's grabs for it.

"You see this hat? Well, if what Thenardier's girl told him about this power thing's true, this girl right here could get you fifty of these hats. Now isn't that tempting?"

Montparnasse blinked, pressing his lips in a thin line, making Babet smile victoriously. He knew he had won. "I don't want to be no bourgeoisie," the boy snarled, snatching his hat back. "I still think we ought to get Eponine instead- no messy kidnapping."

"And murder is any cleaner?"

Montparnasse smiled grimly. "Leaves no witnesses."

Babet nodded, glancing around the street. "You know what to do then. I'll watch for the gendarmes. You grab her."

-XXXXXXX-

Isabella screamed when she was yanked up off the ground roughly, startled out of her peaceful sleep. She couldn't help it, really- she was completely taken by surprise at the strong hand that somehow pinned both arms to her sides. Another hand snaked up to her neck and she felt cold metal pressed against her throat. "Not another word," a voice hissed in her ear. The voice was completely cold- it made a shiver run down Isabella's spine. Worse, it had to be late at night- there was no Gavroche coming to save her now.

"Move it, you," the voice growled, and her captor began shuffling her away from her chosen shelter for the night and into the shadows of a dark alley.

"Who are you?" Isabella's voice came out in a high, soft wheeze, but it was audible enough for the man to hear her.

"Not important," he replied coldly, not stopping his pace.

Okay, he didn't murder her for speaking that time. It was a small window, but Isabella took it. "What do you want? I have no money."

"No, but you can get some, from what I hear."

Oh dear. Well, this wasn't good at all, was it? Well, at least she wasn't pinned to a wall. Maybe she could work with this. But she didn't want to fight anyone just yet...

"I have a lot of people who'll be very worried about me," she whispered, trying to drag her feet and slow her captor's pace without being spontaneously beheaded.

"Maybe they'll be willing to pay a lot of money for you, hmm?" She noticed that the voice sounded young- almost like a boy. She had a fairly good idea of who this was now, and if she was right then she was in hot water.

_"At eighteen he already had numerous corpses in his past. More than one passer-by lay with outstretched arms in the presence of this wretch, with his face in a pool of blood."_

Oh, this was not good at all.

-XXXXXXXX-

Montparnasse was cocky. He always had been rather cocky, even as a small gamin in the streets of Paris. However, cocky does not mean stupid, especially not in his case. He knew that things went wrong, he had seen many, many jobs go sour, and he knew that not everything would go his way. He always went into a mugging knowing that something _could_ go wrong, but never really _expecting_ anything to go wrong.

And thus he was wholly unprepared when the girl with his knife at her throat began to have a seizure.

He was startled when she began twitching, followed by a low, guttural gurgling sound and a sort of gasping. He was forced to pull his knife away quickly when she crumpled to the pavement and lay there, twitching, gasping for breath and clawing at the ground, a wild look in her eyes.

What the hell was he expected to do? He knew absolutely nothing about seizures. Had he caused this somehow? Was she _dying_?

Well, this was bad.

Maybe he should just run. Yes, running sounded very nice at the moment. If he ran, she wouldn't have seen his face and there would be no way for him to be connected to anything, and he could just get out of the job, tell Thenardier to go to hell and never have to think back on this night again. Oh, that certainly was appealing.

But just before he could run, something connected with his legs, sending him sprawling to the pavement with a cuss. His knife slipped out of his hand and he saw a slippered foot send it skittering across the street. Looking up, he realized that the girl was just fine. Of_ course_ she was.

Furious at allowing himself to be tricked so easily, he snarled and tried to get back on his feet. Criminal masterminds were not tricked by little girls wearing hair ribbons, he told himself sternly.

"No, please!" The girl gasped, and he did the same as a sharp blow caught him in the back, sending him to the ground once more. "I'm so sorry," the girl spoke softly as Montparnasse groaned. "I took self-defense classes when I was younger and... I'm really sorry."

Cheeks burning with rage and humiliation, Montparnasse attempted to rise again, only to be caught with another sharp blow. "Please stop!" The girl exclaimed. Montparnasse listened in a sort of detached awe- from the way she cried out, one would think that she was the one being beaten. "Please don't try to get up again," the girl pleaded. "I'll have to keep hitting you, and I'm worried I'll break your back. And I really don't want to hurt you, so it would be much more productive for both of us if you would just- oh, come on, monsieur, be reasonable and stop that!" She struck him again and Montparnasse hissed in pain as his body fell to the ground, his most recent attempt at regaining his feet failing miserably.

"Are you even listening to me at all?" She asked, her voice taking on a tone that was almost offended. "Mon dieu, you attack me and after I get you to the ground you don't even have the decency to listen to me? Some gentleman you are- oh! Well, I have to say you deserved that one for trying to go for the knife, really."

Montparnasse, half blind from the pain of all the blows from the bat, somehow managed to roll on to his back and attempted to stand again, only to be roughly knocked down by a strike to the stomach. He could see now that the girl wielded a sort of yellow stick that he couldn't identify.

"This is a _whiffle ball_ bat!" Montparnasse's attacker (oh, how the roles have reversed) exclaimed incredulously. "Some fearsome murderer you are, doubled over in pain over a plastic bat- _seriously_? Come on, why do you keep on trying to stand- oh, where did I hit you that it's _that_ bad?"

Montparnasse could feel only too well exactly where she had hit him- a rather unfortunate and wholly unexpected attack to the groin. It was all the dandy could do not to scream out in pain, and with good reason- that shot had been _hard_. Where the _hell_ was Babet?!

He finally made his wisest decision in possibly his entire life and chose to stay down.

"Oh god! I hit you there? Oh dear." And suddenly Montparnasse found the girl he had just tried to kidnap kneeling next to him, having dropped her weapon on the ground with a hollow thud. "Oh, I am so sorry!" She exclaimed, her hand at her chin- he had lost his hat, where was his hat? He loved that hat... stupid pain, he couldn't think straight. He registered that the girl was still talking, and found that instead of being annoyed he was grateful for a distraction from the pain and fully focused on her aimless, verbose rambling that actually seemed to help with the pain.

"Okay, okay," the girl soothed. "Hey, I'm sorry, really Montparnasse, I didn't mean too hurt you so badly- I expect that some of those hits will leave some fancy bruises, and they'll definitely smart in the morning... well, at least you'll have the voice to match those hips- no, I'm sorry, that's a low blow- oh, that's a bad metaphor right now, isn't it? Sorry... Okay, do you want me to help with the pain?"

Realizing that she was actually addressing him with a question and expecting an answer, Montparnasse simply threw his head back with a hiss.

"Okay, good. I wouldn't want to do this without your permission..." He suddenly felt warm hands touching his neck and around his ear and he tried to move away, to slink back into the shadows because no one was supposed to touch him, this was bad, he had to get out before the gendarmes came- and suddenly black spots began to appear in his vision as the world grew fuzzy.

"Shh... it's alright," The girl soothed, pressing down hard near his ear with her finger. "Just go to sleep, sleep will help... go to sleep. That's right..."

The world faded to black.

_**AN: I had entirely too much fun with this chapter! I love Montparnasse, I really do- I feel bad for him and stuff, and yet I respect him in a way, and fear him too. He's just so mismatched- well, all of Patron-Minette is, really. They control the underworld? Really, Hugo?**_

_**Okay, so I've come to my decision about the story- while I honestly don't feel my story is so great, I can easily chalk that up to my own self-insecurities. A lot of people seem to like this story and I have a fairly good idea where it's going so I figure that I might as well carry on with it because if I keep writing then I can only get better.**_

_**And yes, Isabella's self-defense classes were mentioned before. See the part where she meet's Jehan- she uses the same knock-out trick on Elsa. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this scene, because Isabella's just so apologetic about beating the hell out of poor Parnasse. But it isn't like he isn't easy to take sown, really- Valjean did it. Granted, Valjean's like, superhulk, but still. And yes, that is a **_**plastic**_** bat.**_

_**I wanted to add a scene with R too, but... I just can't follow that one up. Next chapter, guys!**_

_**Once again, thank you all so much for your continued support and I'm so glad that you're all enjoying the story so much. Thank you guys, because it really means a lot to me.**_


	24. In which Grantaire considers a proposal

The concierge of the DuBois tenement was a stout woman in her late sixties named Madame Poulet. Madame Poulet was a madame no longer- her late husband, whose surname fit him considerably more than it fit his wife, had "fallen" into the path of a carriage some six years ago after losing most of his money and property in a bad game of cards. Madame Poulet was fortunately of the more hardworking sort and managed to hold on to one thing after her husband's untimely demise- their building. The run down house currently had seven tenants.

There was a family of five, consisting of a gray, overworked father, a mother who always looked as if she had just fallen off of the roof of the house judging solely by the state of her clothing and hair, and three noisy, disruptive children of an undeterminable age who seemed to enjoy torturing the poor landlady by screaming at the top of their lungs at ungodly hours.

There was an old man who had at one point in his life been a gardener before he actually did fall off the roof of his house and landed on his head. The blow rendered him rather insane, and with no family to speak of (that he could remember, that is) he lived in the DuBois tenement. He seemed harmless enough but Madame Poulet made a point of keeping out of his way as much as she could, for he seemed to carry a large spade wherever he went and was always muttering to himself about cabbages, and quite frankly he smelled like a cabbage himself. But he allowed Madame Poulet her well deserved sleep, so she found it in her to ignore some of his quirks, even if he did seem intent to grow a greenhouse in his apartment.

And then there was the final tenant. He was no more than a boy, really, but he was as handsome as any boy the Madame had ever seen- almost god-like, with shining blond curls and bright blue eyes. He was an upright man in her view- solemn, sober, well-educated. He spoke little, a quality that Madame Poulet valued greatly, and was a law student. He seemed political- he carried around fat books that the Madame could not imagine herself ever reading, but what she identified as Rousseau, Voltaire and the like- names she knew for the sole purpose of impressing prospective tenants, should they inquire of the subject. "If I had found me a man like that," the Madame was known to say of the boy, "I wouldn't be sitting here, counting sous!"

This man's name was Enjolras, and to the Madame he was thoroughly respectable in every sense of the word.

However, the Madame would have to reconsider her views after what she heard late one Sunday night.

For the fifth time that night, she had had to tell that tired mother that if her little boy didn't stop wailing about a splinter in his toe (a problem which could easily be taken care of, _honestly_, and did _not_ require three hours of howling over) when she heard a loud scream coming from the room across the hall. As any good landlady should be, she was concerned. Perhaps the old man had fallen, or perhaps he had stabbed himself with his spade, or perhaps one of his giant plants had decided to turn carnivorous and was currently trying to _eat_ him...

Madame Poulet was very much surprised to find that it was not the old man's room from which the scream came from, but young Enjolras'.

She rapped on the door sharply, bony knuckles cracking against the wood. "Alright in there, monsieur?"

To her surprise, the voice that answered her was not the voice of Enjolras at all. In fact, it was distinctly female.

"Oh, we're _fine_! Aren't we fine, Enjy? Enjy, tell her that we're fine!"

"Madame, send for hel- _mmmph_!" It was certainly young Enjolras' voice this time, and he sounded to be in distress.

"Monsieur, _are you alright?" _She couldn't enter the room herself- the young man was insistent upon having the only key and consistently locked his door every night, which was honestly quite annoying to her. If greenhouse man could trust her enough with his "flower children", what could the boy have to hide?

It was of no matter, however, for at that moment she heard the clicking of a lock and the door swung open to reveal... a woman.

She was tall, with long, willowy limbs and a slender figure. Her skin was pale and her hair hung loosely down her back. Her blue eyes were large compared to the rest of her face, although the Madame figured that was due to the fact that she seemed surprised. Surprised at what? To be caught in the young man's room, she supposed. "Oh, hello madame!" The woman sounded out of breath and the Madame frowned, studying her over.

"I'm terribly sorry if we disturbed you," she continued, sounding nervous. "Monsieur Enjolras was just showing my friend and I a good evening- we did not mean to be too loud. That scream was from my friend- she was a bit over-excited. Our apologies."

Madame Poulet tried to slyly glance over the young woman's shoulder into the room, but the woman saw her movements and blocked her view by leaning against the doorframe.

"Ah," the Madame nodded, a little embarrassed. "Does the monsieur do this sort of thing often?"

The woman glanced behind her, seeming almost to be taking a cue from someone in the room, before turning back and lowering her voice conspiratorially. "What, take young women home? Ah, yes, certainly... from what I've heard in the shop, monsieur Enjolras has quite the reputation."

"Oh?" The woman raised her eyebrows, quite shocked at this latest piece of information on the man. With a shake of her head, she replied, "Well, you young people ought to be ashamed of yourselves- on a Sunday, really!"

"It was the only night he was available- had women over every other night."

"I see..." The old woman frowned at the young girl, who blushed. "Well, keep it down then. We have children in this tenement, you know."

"Yes Madame," the woman nodded hastily, all to eagerly slamming the door in the landlady's face. The landlady lingered outside for a moment longer, and she swore to anyone she told the story to later that she distinctly heard the young woman's voice say to someone else in the room "Well, clean the blood off of the floor! Really, how'd you let him hit you that hard?"

This episode certainly was some interesting information on the young man, and certainly something that Madame Poulet would not soon forget.

-XXXXXXXXXX-

"Montparnasse!"

The dandy woke to a harsh voice and a kick to his stomach. "Wake up you bastard!" Babet's voice demanded, and he was quite ready to deliver another kick when Montparnasse groaned.

"Alright, I'm up, quit kicking me. I'm sore all over."

"You're _about_ to be even worse off! Where's the girl?"

Montparnasse snarled, sitting up and snatching his knife from the ground. "The girl's a weapon, I tell you, a weapon! She nearly scared me stiff when she started having some sort of seizure- thought I accidentally cut her. I would have killed her, but we needed her alive- and then _she_ started beating _me_!"

Babet snorted, yanking Montparnasse off of the ground by his collar. Shooting him a glare, Montparnasse dusted himself off in an effort to preserve what little dignity still remained to him.

"That girl was hardly more than a kid! Dieu, you lost to her?"

"She got in some very good hits," Montparnasse mumbled, thoroughly humiliated and really not wanting to talk about it anymore.

"Well, Thenardier's going to be pleased, won't he?" Babet shook his head, smoothing back his slick hair with his hand.

"I don't give a damn about Thenardier."

"Well, neither do I, but he can be useful sometimes and I don't want to go about burning bridges we may need for later." Babet shot Montparnasse a harsh look. "Next time," he said, his voice an ominous hiss, "I'll deal with the girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Babet's tone was as cold as Montparnasse had ever heard it. "It means she won't get away so easy."

-XXXXXXXX-

"Will you shut up?!"

"Let me out," Grantaire demanded, and Marleni could hear the anger in his tone even though she couldn't see him in the darkness.

"I tried to calm him," Bossuet called from another cell. "He says he feels sick. However, I am unable to sleep with him howling, and I happen to be rather fond of sleep, and so if you could quiet him down I should be quite grateful."

Marleni snorted, leaning against the cell door and crossing her arms. "Of course you feel sick. When's the last time you had anything to drink?"

"Last night."

"Then there's your problem," she shrugged. "Withdrawal."

"I could figure that," Grantaire snapped. Okay, he was an angry not-drunk. Marleni could deal with angry not-drunks. No problem. She frowned, shaking her head chastisingly. He couldn't see her, but she figured that he got the idea.

"You shouldn't snap at me. I'm the one going to help you."

Without warning she flipped the switch on the wall and fluorescent lights flooded the room. Grantaire shielded his face and glared up at Marleni. For a moment neither of them spoke, listening in silence to Bossuet's screams of "ahh, my eyes!"

Marleni took in Grantaire. Under his glorious George Bladgenness, his eyes were bloodshot. He was sweating and sort of shaking. His skin was pale and looked clammy, which Marleni knew was nothing unusual for withdrawal. She had seen it often enough in her neighborhood, and even in her own house.

"So..." She said at last, when the howls of agony sort of subsided. "You look like hell."

_"Yeah."_

"But in a good way- I mean, you're George Blagden, man. _George Blagden_."

"Who?"

"No one." Marleni shook her head. "So, what do you feel?"

"Anxious," Grantaire replied, "very anxious. And I have an awful headache. Can't sleep, either.

Marleni sighed, pulling open the heavy steel door of the cell with a grunt and letting herself in. "It's definitely alcohol withdrawal. Here."

She tossed him a heavy glass bottle, which he just managed to catch. "Where'd you get that?" he exclaimed in surprise, studying her with his watery eyes. She raised an eyebrow. "The bottle," he clarified. "You didn't have it before."

"Didn't I? Hmm, strange." She brushed the topic off as if it were nothing, yet Grantaire was unswayed.

"Just like the other girl," he murmured. "The one who moved her hair..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, man. Just..." She trailed off, an odd light going into her eyes. It almost looked as if she had gotten an idea, and Grantaire wondered if he should be scared.

"Questions!" She exclaimed suddenly, bouncing on her heels. "Ooh, I have questions for you! And you have to answer, Okay? Okay! Ooh, this is so much fun!" She started laughing abruptly and Grantaire blinked at her, easily opening the bottle and taking a long drink.

"Do you love Enjolras?"

He almost choked.

"Uhh... Enjolras? What of him?"

"Do you love him?" She asked simply.

Grantaire frowned, contemplating the question. Did he love Enjolras? Enjolras was... Enjolras. Enjolras was the sun. Enjolras was fire, burning pure and bright and gold, never stopping, never faltering, always sure, always radiant. Enjolras was freedom. Enjolras was belief. Enjolras was everything that Grantaire lacked, and that fascinated him.

But did he love him? Enjolras was _everything_. Enjolras was perfect. Enjolras was light. How could anyone not love that? how could anyone not love him?

"Yes, I suppose I do. Enjolras is... a golden, glorious Apollo, a god among mortals. The sands of time-"

"Yeah, yeah, it isn't ranty time, buddy. In that case, do you want to join our group?"

Grantaire frowned, not used to being cut off. His friends mostly let him blab on- he supposed that he amused them. "What is your group?"

The girl grinned widely. "We are the Amigas de las Miserables!" She proclaimed proudly, pronouncing the title as if it were a declaration of nobility. Grantaire nodded expectantly, but the girl merely grinned.

"_Which is_?" He put a lot of effort into making his tone very, very patient.

"We love Enjolras!" She exclaimed blithely. "He's, like, sooooo hot. And Aaron Tveit? My god! Anyway, we love all the Barricade Boys- the ones with the biggest fanbases, aside from Enjolras, are Courfeyrac, Combeferre and you." She beamed, sitting down on the floor of the cell as if it were nothing. "Bridget has titles! There are the Enjolusters, most of us. There are Combeferrians- Elsa and Bridget herself, namely. Oh, and Bridget is also a Jolette, which means something like 'Joly's girl'. Bella's one of Prouvaire's Flowers. And of course," she grinned devilishly at this part, "Courfeyrac's Collection."

She had to stop talking for a moment because she was laughing too hard to continue. "Anyway," she said once she had finally calmed down, "want to join us? You and Ally would get along well- she loves Enjolras too." Upon seeing Grantaire's frown, she added hastily, "You don't have too. It just might be fun. You could help us and stuff. We aren't bad people, we just love the Amis and want them to... notice us." Her eyes narrowed. "You know how that feels, don't you Grantaire?"

Her words struck a cord within Grantaire. Of course he knew. Enjolras never noticed him. Enjolras despised him for being exactly what _he_ wasn't- worthless. Grantaire was worthless- he had a brilliant education in classical mythology and yet he wasted it all in drunken rants over games of dominoes and cards. He drowned himself in alcohol daily. Enjolras looked down on Grantaire- and why shouldn't he? Grantaire was nothing compared to Enjolras, and he knew it well. He reminded himself every day.

"You won't hurt anyone."

"Of course not. Enjolras will _have_ to notice you, though." The girl shrugged, staring him directly in the eyes. Grantaire got the feeling that she knew exactly how to talk to people and how to get her way. She was very convincing.

"Alright. Fine." Grantaire agreed. What else could he say? The idea of Enjolras actually, for some absurd reason that only these girls could deduce, noticing him was too good to pass up.

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

Isabella was one of those specific people alarm clocks had absolutely no effect on whatsoever. This was not to say that she was a heavy sleeper; no, in fact she was a completely average sleeper by all accounts, including her own. However, alarm clocks simply did not work for her, and so it often fell to those around her to wake her in the mornings, should the need arise. Thus Isabella was familiar with all manners of waking someone from sleep, thanks to her own experiences. There was her mother's tactic of screaming in someone's face until they awoke. Her father simply slammed a door. Lucille preferred a sharp, shrill scream in the ear, enough to rouse anyone easily. They had an old housekeeper, when Isabella was nine, who tended towards pouring water on one's face. It was a horrid practice- either the water was just short of scalding or several degrees below freezing- but it was effective enough. Elsa's method was shaking someone awake, quietly but persistently. Ally simply yanked one up by the shoulders and shook them, which was thoroughly unpleasant for all parties. Avielle, however, liked to sit on people.

She did not do it maliciously, and perhaps she did not even know that she weighed a good one hundred and fourty pounds. Perhaps she truly had no idea how jarring it is to be awoken by the feeling of your ribs being crushed. Isabella was not sure, but she preferred to genuinely believe that Avielle only meant the best, and thus was not angry when she awoke to find herself slowly being ground into the soggy pavement, Avielle seated nonchalantly on her chest.

"Oh, hello," She greeted cheerfully, with a tiny wave.

"Avi..." Isabella gasped, suddenly aware of the alarming deflation of one of her lungs under the weight of the Avielle. "Air, please."

Avielle blinked a second before jumping up. "Oh, right, sorry." She grinned good-naturedly, and Isabella couldn't help but smile back. "Fun night?"

"I suppose," Isabella shrugged, her gaze falling to the slimy ground she lay on.

"It certainly seems that way, considering you fell asleep right outside the sewer grate when you could have just slid down the slide or plotholed in like any other sane person." She tilted her head, concern clear in her eyes. "You okay?"

"Fine, I guess..."

Avielle raised an eyebrow. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Isabella sighed, tossing her head back in exasperation. "How?" She demanded. Avielle grinned.

"It's a gift. I can tell when something's up. Now what did you do?"

Isabella returned to staring at the ground, and in the tiniest of voices she murmured out, "I may have... _accidentallykilledmontparnasse_."

"What?"

"I think I _killedmontparnasse_."

"You did what?"

"I _killed Montparnasse,_ okay?!" Isabella exclaimed, her voice coming out in a loud shriek. Avielle blinked, mouth dropping open.

"You what?!"

"Accidentally! Possibly!"

"It was _possibly_ by accident?"

"No!" Isabella exclaimed in frustration. "I might have possibly killed Montparnasse, on accident."

"How do you kill someone on accident?" Avielle cried.

"The same way you set a goldfish on fire _on accident_."

This shut Avielle up. She frowned and fell completely silent, glaring at the ground. After a moment of sulking, when Bella was just starting to feel bad, she muttered "is everybody going to bring that up whenever they want?"

Isabella shrugged. "It's free game. You haven't replaced the goldfish yet."

"Why should I need to replace it? The goldfish lived!"

"Avi," Isabella sighed, shaking her head. "That isn't a goldfish anymore. It used to be a goldfish. Now it's more like a ashy grayfish."

Avielle rolled her eyes. "Fine then. So, how'd you possibly kill Montparnasse?"

"Umm..."

"Yes?"

"I bludgeoned him with a whiffle ball bat!" Isabella spat out, seeming horrified by her own words. Avielle snorted.

"Wow. So that's it? What'd you do, hit him over the head once and knock him out?"

"No..." Isabella frowned, seeming reluctant to continue. "I hit him numerous times with the bat. There were shots mainly to the torso, several to te head, and one very unfortunate- and accidental- shot to the groin. And _then_ I knocked him out."

Avielle turned pale and bit her lip, closing her eyes. Isabella was concerned for a moment because it seemed as if Avielle were in actual pain, before the other girl burst into a fit of laughter.

"Oh god!" She crowed. "You- you hit... the flower of the underworld... in the nuts?"

"Yes?"

"God, Bella!" Avielle shrieked, and for a moment she looked as if she would drop to the ground in laughter before she realized exactly how disgusting the ground was and drew back immediately. "How old is the kid? Fifteen? God, you might have screwed him up for life!"

Isabella gasped, horrified at the thought. "Oh, no! Say I didn't! I didn't mean to hurt him, I swear!"

"I'm kidding," Avielle laughed, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Oh," Isabella shook her head. "Right. Yeah. Anyway," she finally stood up from the ground, frowning at the putrid muck staining her clothes. "Do you know where Bridget is? I really need to talk to her."

Avielle shrugged. "Think she's still sleeping. Why?"

Bella frowned, biting her lip. "No reason, I just wanted to talk to her, is all."

"Okay. That something you don't want to talk about too?"

"Yeah."

Avielle offered her a small smile. "No problem."

**AN: Hey guys! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. There was originally supposed to be a whole other conversation here between Noelle and Azelma after Bella and Avielle's bit, but I couldn't fit it in. I'm busy plotting out the ending (which will be pretty huge) and I've fallen victim to a Series of Unfortunate Events. First I lost a huge hunk of the chapter and had to retype it. Then was sick for about a day (but I'm better now). And this morning I had a really bad accident, and it ended with me narrowly avoiding an oncoming car and faceplanting into the sidewalk. So, yeah, I'm getting a Phantom mask now because I can, since half of my face is completely scarred up and quite ruined for the next week or so. I'm going to have a lot of fun showing that to people- just pull off the mask and scream "SURPRISE!".**

**You see, this is why I don't understand my inability to** **write Bossuet. He makes fun of his own luck too, yet I can't write him. He's actually the hardest for me to write, next to R. Does that make sense?  
**

**Wow, I've been ranting for about 300 words here, huh? Sorry. Anyway, next chapter- Cosette, Azelma and... Marthe?**


	25. In which Isabella picks up a tag-along

Combeferre was dismayed to find himself once again at the lake, surrounded by the warm sun and the chirping of birds, normally not unpleasant except for the fact that once again it _wasn't his dream_. He was even _more_ dismayed to find that once again, the same woman from earlier was several inches away from kissing him.

Natural human instinct propelled him backwards, this time nearly falling into the lake. However, the girl leaned forward at exactly the same time, and she ended up landing flat on her face.

"Ow."

Looking up, her face registered her surprise to see him blinking at her. "You know, we really have to stop meeting like this," she commented dryly, rubbing the dirt off of her face.

"I agree. No personal insult to you, mademoiselle, but this is all rather inconvenient for me."

She sighed, rising to her knees. "And to me as well." She bit her lip, seeming unsure whether to say anything else. Finally, she almost impulsively spits her words out. "You know, what started out as me and my friend getting so sleep with our boyfriends turned into me sitting there watching her tie him to a chair and covering for her when he punched her in the face. Where were you, huh?" She was actually glaring at him, as if she expected him to respond to her woes.

"Ah, I'm... sorry?"

She shook her head. "It's fine, I guess. I'm just... sorry, you have no idea what I'm talking about. I was just frustrated. Anyway..." She lay back and stretched out across the grass, allowing her feet to dangle in the water. "Why are you here again?"

Combeferre shook his head. "I haven't any idea. Mademoiselle... Challoner, was it?"

"Marthe Challoner, yes."

"I'm afraid we really ought to figure out why this is happening, because I am truly not sure how I could manage meeting you here every night."

She nodded, a strange little smile spreading across her face. "Yes. As lovely as your company is, I'm afraid I prefer my dreams to be mine alone."

Combeferre was honestly feeling a bit awkward. Her current position on the ground made him a bit uncomfortable, especially in the way her arm was extended over her head in a way that seemed as if she were reaching out for him.

"So." To Combeferre's relief, she rolled onto her stomach and placed her head in her palms. "Research. Did you do any?"

He hadn't, of course. He had classes at the university until nearly noon, and he stayed at the Musain with Enjolras until about three, and then everyone, sans Bossuet (for obvious reasons) Grantaire (still missing, although Bahorel and Feuilly had looked for him for several hours) and Courfeyrac, who had no good excuse to offer him except that he was taking a woman out that night, had met at the Corinth to discuss plans for the revolution. Combeferre and Joly had both been incredibly overworked because of the cholera epidemic spreading throughout France, so as soon as the meeting was over Combeferre had gone straight home and right to bed. He had not had any time to read anything on the matter that day, so he merely shook his head.

"Well, it's a good thing I did," Marthe replied. "Let's see- you always show up at the same place in the dream, when I'm supposed to be kissing- someone. Hereby, I suppose that something must be summoning you here. That something, I figure, could perhaps be our own minds. From what I read- which isn't much, mind, and I've never had to deal with something like this before- I think we somehow merged subconsciouses. I don't know, this is just a theory, but it might be possible. I mean, I could see if it was just a one time thing, but..."

"How would that be possible?"

She shrugged. "Don't ask me. I've got as good an idea as you do."

Combeferre frowned, staring into the deep lake as if he would find the answers to all of his questions beneath the crystalline waters, all the way down. There was still something vaguely suspicious about this girl, from the way it almost felt as if she were flirting with him to how he still could almost swear he had seen her before...

"So..." Marthe dragged out the word for a few seconds, as if in a desperate attempt to fill the silence. "You like blue, huh?"

He nearly jumped. "So you _are_ one of them!"

"One of whom?"

He had to pause for a moment to recall the correct name. Suddenly, he had it. "Las Amigas de las Miserables," he hissed.

"Uhh..." She bit her lip, eyes wide. "So... that's a yes on the blue thing then?"

"_Really_?"

"Gotta go, bye!"

And suddenly she was gone, and the lake seemed to engulf Combeferre all at once, drowning him in heavy, soothing darkness.

-XXXXXXXXX-

Azelma loved sunrises.

She loved everything about them. She loved the fact that they brought light. She loved the fact that they ended nights, nights when no one knew where anyone was and when anything horrible could happen. She loved the hope they brought, that maybe today would be better than yesterday. She loved the beauty in them- no matter what, they were always gorgeous, in sparkling hues of oranges and pinks and golds, just like she could have been- beautiful and golden all of the time, had things turned out differently. And she loved that no matter where you were, the sun would always rise no matter what, to chase away the darkness. It was reliable, one of the only things in her life that she could truly rely on, and she latched on to that, clinging to that little scrap of order and reliability with a passion. None of her family had any appreciation for the sunrise, not even Eponine. Eponine was a creature of the night- Azelma wanted to be in the sun all the time. Sadly, her lifestyle forbid it. But there was no reason for her not to be able to find the beauty in sunrises, and as such she had trained herself to get up right when the sun rose every morning. She was always awake before her parents- typically before Eponine, too, but sometimes Eponine didn't even come home at night.

Every morning, Azelma watched the sun rise, drowning out the darkness in gold. Sometimes, she would even stick her pale, scrawny hand out from wherever the Thenardiers were sleeping that night and watch the sun come up to meet her fingertips. She would twist her fingers, playing with the light- sometimes she imagined that she could even _touch_ the sunlight, that she could hold it and take a tiny bit of it and keep it with her forever.

She was unsurprised when she woke early in the morning, likely before the sun even rose. Ally's bedroom was a strange place to her- she had certainly never seen anything like it. The clothing of the girls were absolutely outrageous, but Azelma had seen outfits similar on prostitutes sometimes, so she was relatively unfazed. However, the room itself was another story- there were bunks scattered along the walls, and little animals full of cotton, stuffed and warm, littered the floor.

She shared a bed with Eponine- it was actually Noelle's bed, but Noelle was sleeping on the bunk above them, sharing with Maddy. The bed was so soft- the pillows were light and downy while the orange blankets were thick, enveloping the sisters in warmth. Lying there, it was almost easy for Azelma to pretend that she was a princess, in a beautiful silk nightgown. Her hair was in plaits and ribbons and when she woke she would ring the maid to bring her tea and she would sit out on her grand balcony and watch the sunset rise over the hills-

And then Eponine shifted in her sleep beside her and Azelma was dragged back to reality Her eyes opened in slits and she found herself with both arms curled around a stuffed bunny rabbit that Marleni had given her before bed (Eponine had gotten a bear). With a soft sigh she cast the creature away and slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Eponine. Her sister was a light sleeper, but Azelma was good at staying in the shadows, slinking from place to place unseen. She was small enough that no one noticed her, and she rarely spoke, hereby she was useful to her father.

She stood in the middle of the room, still dark. One set of bunks were entirely empty, untouched from last night. Azelma was unsure who slept there, but she figured it to be Ally and Elsa, the girls she had met early yesterday morning. She had nearly bitten Elsa for pulling on her hair too hard. In the next set of bunks on that wall, a telltale head of curls pinpointed Avielle, whom Azelma had not met for herself. The exceedingly loquacious Maddy had described her- and all of the Amigas- in what Azelma could only describe as fantastic terms, and had gone to great lengths to describe each one's appearance. The curly hair could only be Avielle. Below her, the tiny figure of Marleni slumbered peacefully, a pile of pillows and blankets where one could barely make out the figure of a small girl.

On the other wall Azelma turned to see Bridget on the top bunk, eyes shut and breathing even. She had a tiny little smile on her face that suggested good dreams, a rarity for Azelma. Typically, her dreams were empty- purely dark, nothing at all. The bunk below Bridget was empty as well- the deep purple bedspread suggested the bed to be Isabella's, whom Maddy had told Azelma about extensively. Apparently her mother was a "bipolar drunk who can't decide whether she loves her stepdaughter or hates her". Azelma was unsure what that meant, but the others seemed content with the description so Azelma didn't ask any further.

And then there was her and Eponine's unorderly bed, and above them slept Maddy and... actually, just Maddy.

"Hello."

Azelma spun around to see Noelle sitting at a little wooden table in the corner of the room with a notebook on her lap and a device Marleni had called a flashlight, that actually produced light when you flipped a tiny switch, sitting on the table.

"Did I scare you?" Noelle laughed nervously. "Sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't even notice you were awake over my iPod."

"What's that?"

"Music," Noelle shrugged, holding up a tiny pink box. "I'm listening to Niamh Perry- she's great, or at least I think so. Maddy and I- we both spent, like, three weeks watching the entire series of _I'd Do Anything_, just for Sam Barks. She and I have the same birthday, you know- October second. Anyway, we both loved Samantha, of course, but next to her my second favorite was Niamh. Maddy loved Rachel and Jessie- god, when Rachel got voted off she had a fit, and when Jessie didn't win she nearly broke the TV- anyway, yeah, so I'm listening to her. Not Maddy, I mean Niamh. She's incredible." Noelle suddenly something out to her. "Want to hear?"

Until that point, Azelma had been quite content in listening to Noelle prattle on. She didn't understand a word of what was being said, but that was alright. She liked hearing others speak, even if she couldn't understand them. There was something comforting in it to her, ever since she was a little girl. She could remember her mother just sitting with her, in happier times, murmuring silly little rhymes under her breath to lull her into sleep. It was her first and clearest memory, and Azelma supposed it was a rather comical one- a giantess of a woman cradling a tiny, sickly baby in her arms. Azelma had never been healthy as a child- in fact, her father swore that it was her near constant illnesses that drove them to bankruptcy. Eponine had gotten sick only once that Azelma could remember- it was almost a special power of Eponine's, to stay as healthy as she did- but when she had gotten sick she had nearly died.

Azelma was always content to listen, and was rarely ever addressed. So Noelle's final words startled her and she took the... thing she offered her tentatively, having no idea what it was.

"Oh, you put it in your ear. See?" Noelle somehow produced a duplicate one- looking closer, Noelle could see that the things were attached to each other by a wire of some sort- and placed it in her ear. "It's an earbud."

Azelma did as Noelle demonstrated and fixed the earbud inside her ear. "Now, don't be scared, okay? I'm just going to play until the song ends." Azelma nodded and with a satisfied smile, Noelle tapped the little box and returned her attention to her notebook.

Azelma jumped about a foot as music exploded in her ear, a soft voice singing to a pretty melody. The song was melancholy, soft but passionate, and Azelma wanted to hear it. She fought the urge to tear the earbud out of her ear as Noelle smirked at her.

"This is amazin'!" Azelma gasped as the singer hit notes she could never imagine herself hitting- not that she sung much anyway. "How does it work?"

Noelle shrugged as the song came to a peaceful end. "I don't know. It just works. Isn't it neat?"

Azelma nodded, handing her the earbud back. "Neat is right. It's incredible!"She stared at the little pink box that almost seemed to glow next to the flashlight- the _iPod._ "Could I... could I maybe get one like it?"

Noelle shrugged. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea... I suppose I could talk to Ally about it."

"D'you always talk to Ally before you do anythin'?" Hesitantly, Azelma took the other chair and dragged in next to Noelle. She had liked Noelle last night- she was never too loud, and she wasn't overly cruel with her power.

"If it's something big, then yeah. Not Avielle and Elsa, though- they're close enough to Ally that she never yells at them. But if someone like Isabella steps out of line, Ally gets out her shovel- but that's a whole other story." Azelma raised her eyebrows, making Noelle grin. "But that's Ally," she continued, flipping through the pages of her notebook. "She does stuff like that and then beats herself up afterwards, because she wants to do _everything _for _everybody_. See-"

Noelle held out her notebook for Azelma to see. There on the page, Noelle had sketched Ally. Azelma drew in a breath. The picture looked almost perfect, gentle shades of blacks and grays running across the page, each detail- from the shape of her lips to each individual hair on her head- was clear. At the top of the page, there was a caption which Azelma could _just_ read, written in long, wispy lettering- _**Quick to anger, eager to please**_.

"That's Ally," Noelle continued softly. "I spent days working on it. It isn't my best, but... I think it's good."

Azelma reached out her hand to touch it, but then drew back.

"Can I-"

"Sure."

Azelma traced the face with her finger taking care not to smudge the drawing. It was so lifelike, absolutely stunning.

"The thing about Ally is that her dad, he's always away on business and stuff. And Ally has two younger sisters, Kate and Meg, whom she can't stand. Ally's jealous of Kate because she's just so pretty, like a model. Kate's furious with Ally because she's really smart, and she had an offer for a scholarship, from Harvard. If Ally leaves then Kate's going to have to watch out for Meg, because Ally's mom is sort of... flighty. And Kate doesn't want that."

"What's Harvard?" Azelma asked absently, still examining the drawing.

"A college. Women go to college, where we come from, and Harvard is the best. And Ally got a scholarship, which is absolutely amazing!"

Azelma didn't reply, except with a soft sigh. She wished that she lived wherever the Amigas lived, because from what she had heard about their world, it was incredible. She would never get to go to college, to be educated like a real man- no, like a real person. She probably would never learn how to read, and the thought saddened her.

"D'you draw anyone else?" She asked softly, eager to direct the subject off of colleges and Noelle's world.

"Yes, of course. I draw _everyone_, and everything. It's sort of a hobby." She trailed off, seeming hesitant. "You can look, if you want. I really only show my work to my brother and Maddy, but..."

Azelma, delighted at the chance to see more of the beautiful drawings, smiled at Noelle. This seemed to placate the older girl, and with a nod she handed the book to Azelma.

There were some pictures of nature- sunsets, flowers, a bowl of fruit, a kitten. These were direct, pretty but not fantastic. And then, as Azelma thumbed through the pages, it became clear where Noelle's true talent lay.

Noelle drew people. That was her niche, those were her best works, and each photo was almost perfect. She drew a picture of a little girl sitting with her doll. She drew a picture of a tiny girl with her hair in braids, climbing a tree. She drew a picture of an older boy with glasses, reading a book. There were pictures titled oddly- The Friends of the ABC, sketches of nine boys in clothing that looked normal to Azelma instead of the wild clothing of the Amigas' world. And then Noelle had pages and pages filled with faces that Azelma recognized easily- that of her friends.

There were almost ten drawings just of Maddy- in one she bit a pencil in between her teeth, hanging off one of the bunks upside down. In another Maddy danced, and Azelma could almost see the picture girl's graceful movements across the page. And in one, there was simply Maddy, with the title, much like Ally's- _**Wild without knowing why**_.

And then there were the other Amigas- each one had random pictures, though not as many as Maddy did, and each one had their own individual portrait with their own captions (Azelma had to ask for help reading some of them). Elsa's title was _**Thinks about everything except people**_. Noelle described Isabella as _**Selfless to the point of self-destruction**_. Bridget, a notebook in her lap and braids in her hair, was titled _**Watches everything from the shadows and writes it down**_. Marleni's, Azelma really couldn't understand- _**Knows half the world, lives behind a shield.**_

"What do these mean?" Azelma asked softly, staring at the graceful, free strokes in each picture. Noelle laughed nervously, and looking up Azelma could see that she was blushing.

"Umm... I know that I probably sound really malevolent there. Bridget and I came up with those- she's better at the whole, um, poetic phrasing than I am. See, Isabella would kill herself if it meant that someone else would be better off for it- she values herself so little that it really hurts her sometimes. She puts herself way below everybody else.

"And Elsa, she's actually pretty ignorant about human social cues- she picks up on stuff, but not a lot. She just isn't that interested in people, and is way better off in books. So she can sometimes be sort of rude without even realizing- that's why she needs Avielle there, to balance her out. Bridget hardly ever speaks, but she sees everything- a lot like you, Zelma. She writes everything down in her books, and she makes stories out of them all, and the stories are brilliant.

"Marleni has a really rough life and it's absolutely _insane_ for her sometimes- sometimes she just takes off on her bike and rides halfway across town and shows up at my doorstep, looking for a place to stay. No one really misses her. She's been everywhere, and really knows her way around. So she acts like a kid, because it helps her cope."

Azelma frowned, listening intently. As each explanation was addressed, she flipped to each picture. indeed, in Noelle's drawing, little hints of each explanation were clear in the long wispy pencil strokes. The hint of wisdom in Marleni's eyes, the pensive expression on Bridget's face- each term quickly made sense, almost like fitting together a puzzle.

"And Maddy..." Noelle sighed. "Maddy is herself, and she makes that clear. She's... wildly independent. She's absolutely fearless and... she has been known to do some really stupid things. Like... she goes to raves on weekends, with Avielle. They don't do drugs or anything, but they do drink- Avi sleeps with people... Maddy just steps out of line all the time and she wants someone to say something to her, but no one ever does, and she wants someone to. Not me." Noelle shook her head, stray strands of light brown hair falling into her eyes, which she brushed back behind her ear. She laughed, and Azelma couldn't help but note the trace of bitterness in her tone. "She doesn't want me to tell her anything, because I'm the only one who really listens to her."

Azelma frowned, staring at the picture in front of her, at the girl with the crazy grin and the fearless gleam in her eyes. "Can't you 'elp 'er?" She whispered.

"Won't take any help from me. All I can do is keep her safe. She doesn't think... she never does, and it's going to kill her one day."

Azelma frowned at the ominous words. "I wouldn't say that. She just needs 'elp."

Noelle raised an eyebrow. "From whom? Her mom and dad think she's an angel." She sighed, taking the notebook back. "Anyway..." Flipping through the pages, she landed on one that looked as if it had hardly been started. Yet, as Azelma studied it she saw something recognizable in that face...

"It's Eponine. I'm drawing her. I could do you next, if you'd like."

Azelma's eyes lit up at the prospect of getting her portrait done, like an actual bourgeoisie. "Could ya? Could ya make me a drawin'?

"Sure," Noelle smiled. "Later, though. Right now, I've got to finish this one." She held up her pencil with a tiny smile and turned back to her sketch.

Azelma typically would have been content in the silence that followed, but a question had been on her lips since last evening. She had been too afraid to ask then, but she decided that now seemed like it would be an opportune time, in a moment of such peace. "What's it like, havin' powers like that?"

Noelle looked up again, surprise evident on her face. "Umm..." She seemed to struggle for words for a moment, studying her hands. "It's, umm... it's really fun, honestly. I mean, I love my power- sometimes I say that I can put people to sleep if I talk long enough, but that's not exactly a compliment..." She smiled, looking up at Azelma again. "Why? Do you want a power?"

"Not sure I could even get one," Azelma shrugged. "Eponine's one o' you- she has them powers, but could I?"

"If you're lucky, and find someone willing to help you. Don't ask me though- I don't know how I could do anything like what Avi and Elsa did." She shook her head, a slight grin spreading across her face. "To be honest, using the powers is kind of tough."

" 'Ow's that?" No one had seemed to be struggling with their powers- Azelma couldn't understand how it would be anything but wonderful. To actually have powers that no one else had- to have control over someone, to be higher than them because of your power- it was a thrilling idea to the gamine.

"Well... it's all in the eyes, really," Noelle replied thoughtfully. "In the mind and in the eyes. Last night I realized- you can't use the power by just looking and not focusing, but you have to at least sort of look at it once and then close your eyes, because you've got to be able to picture the power working, like you holding a glass of water or something. Envision the water, focus on it, and you have it. It's hard work."

"I could do it," Azelma announced indignantly. "Sure I could."

"I know you could," Noelle replied cryptically, offering her a small smile and returning to her drawing. "We'll see..."

-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-

"So," Avielle chirped, dragging Isabella by the arm through a crowded square. "To be frank, I've got absolutely no idea where we are, and that may be a bit of a problem."

Isabella shook her head, smiling at her friend. "Well, why didn't you pay attention when plotholing?"

"I did," Avielle replied defensively. "I asked to be taken near rue Plumet. I suppose we are sort of near rue Plumet... I just don't know where."

Isabella frowned, biting her lip. "Umm... Avi? We're in the Champ de Mars, I think, sans Eiffel Tower... I'm not really sure if that's anywhere near Rue Plumet."

"Aww, but I wanted to kill Cosette!" Avielle whined, shaking her arm loose of Isabella and placing it on her hip. "What do we do now?"

Isabella shrugged. "I don't know. If I knew my way around Paris, do you really think I would have slept in a sewer drain last night?"

Avielle glanced around the square in annoyance. It wasn't even that nice here, and there wasn't any place to sit... twenty first century Champ de Mars was _totally_ better.

"Well, that still doesn't solve our problem. How do we get from here to rue Plumet in order to kill Colette?"

"What was that?" Isabella asked, glancing back at Avielle.

"Umm... in order to... look at corsets." Avielle wasn't going to let little goody two shoes 'but killing people is wrong, even whiny bland girls who steal Marius away from Eponine' Isabella foil her plans _that_ easily.

"We could hail an omnibus!" Isabella suggested suddenly, turning to Avi with a grin. Avielle frowned.

"An omni-what?"

"An omnibus!" Isabella exclaimed, grasping Avielle's hands and twirling around excitedly. "Oh, it'll be fun! Come on, you can't go back to the nineteenth century without riding something like these."

"So, like a stagecoach?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"I don't know, Bella," Avielle said uncertainly. Isabella sighed, rolling her eyes.

"There'll be horses. You like horses, Avi."

At the mention of horses, Avielle brightened considerably. "What... type of horses?" She asked cautiously, still unsure about the whole endeavour.

"Oh, any kind!" Isabella exclaimed with a soft laugh. "Unicorns, even. Winged Pegasus'. Urepines the horse demon."

"Well..." Avielle grinned brightly at her friend. "If there'll be unicorns-"

Isabella beamed. "Yes! this is going to be fun, I promise!"

-XXXXXX-

"Ooh, look! We're going past the Seine!" Isabella exclaimed, pointing to the river as the omnibus drove them past. She nudged Avielle, gesturing out the window. "Look, Avi!"

Avielle simply shrugged nonchalantly. "Seen it."

"What?"

"Seen it, done it, almost fell in to it."

Isabella blinked, tilting her head to one side. "I want to ask, but I'm not sure if I want to know."

Avielle patted her on the head gently. "You'll find out later."

-XXXXXXX-

"How much was that?" Isabella exclaimed, sounding awed.

"Too much," Avielle replied, casting a dirty look to the driver over her shoulder as he drove off. "God! How do people afford anything here if one carriage ride costs a week's income?"

"The same way as New Yorkers," Isabella replied, sounding dazed. "Fifteen francs... _my god_..."

Avielle snorted, obviously a bit too entertained by her friend's horror. "Come on, where are we now? This doesn't look like rue Plumet."

Isabella frowned. "No..." She said slowly. We're on rue Monsieur. This is rue Plumet down here-" She pointed down a side street.

"Rue what?" Avielle exclaimed, snickering at the name. Isabella sighed.

"Rue Monsieur, and no, it's not as funny as you think."

"Hey," Avielle gasped, sudden realization hitting her and making her grin. "This is where Eponine led Marius, right? Right down this street?"

Isabella shrugged. "I expect so."

Isabella was startled when Avielle started squeeing and jumping up and down, nearly knocking her friend back into the wall. "Omigosh 'Ponine brought Marius down here! This is so cooooool!" She ran down the street, dragging Isabella by the arm (that was happening to her a lot today) until they reached a gate, finding a very overgrown garden. "This is it," Avielle breathed, suddenly completely calm. "It's Corset's garden."

"This is awesome," Isabella grinned.

Avielle suddenly leapt up and began climbing the gate. "_Avi!_ What are you doing?" Isabella cried as her friend managed to pull herself over to the other side and disappeared. "Avielle!"

"Shut up!" Avielle hissed from where Isabella couldn't see her. Isabella heard the distinct sounds of shuffling and a muffled swear before Avielle vaulted over the gate again as if it were nothing.

"What did you do?" Isabella asked softly, biting her lip. Avielle tried to look innocent.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing." Then she did something strange, even for Avielle. She cupped a hand to her mouth and called in a silly high voice, "dear Cosette! Come out and play!"

"What are you _doing_?!" Isabella exclaimed. Avielle glanced at her, shaking her head.

"You're right. What _am_ I doing? I mean, what is this, _The Shining_? 'Come out and play?'" She sighed huffily and then called out in a notably more normal voice, "_Cosette_! Cosette Fauchelevent!"

Isabella grabbed Avielle's arm. "_Stop!_"

"No!" Avielle exclaimed gleefully, smiling in a way that Isabella didn't like at all. "I rigged the door to trigger an explosive and I hid it in the bush!"

"You _what_?!"

"When she opens that door- bye bye, Courgette."

Isabella was frantic. "You can't _kill Cosette_!"

"That's _Corvette_, Bella," Avielle chided, patting her on the head. "And _yes_, I can. Actually," Avielle grinned wickedly as both girls heard the sound of a door opening, "I think I just did."

"No!" Isabella hissed, panic giving her eyes a bright gleam. Avielle laughed, putting a bit too much effort in to trying to make her laugh sound evil.

"Countdown: fourty seconds."

"Hello?" A soft voice called from behind the gate. "Is there someone there?" Avielle snickered as the girl seemed to venture closer to the gate, and subsequently the bomb.

"Cosette?" A deeper voice resonated and the two fangirls exchanged glances, chills running up and down their spines. It was Jean Valjean.

"It's alright, papa!" Cosette called, obviously very close to the gate now. "I'll be in in a moment!"

"Thirty seconds." Avielle whispered.

"Oh, I can't watch this," Isabella murmured, spontaneously deciding to do something that was either very brave or very stupid. With one clear jump she pulled away from Avielle and grabbed on to the top of the gate, pulling herself over the top with some struggle and falling right into the garden.

And incidentally, right at the feet of Cosette Fauchelevent.

"Oh, hello."

Cosette was a very pretty girl. She was clearly very young- only about sixteen or seventeen now, Isabella knew. Unlike most teenagers, she happened to have very good skin- pale like cream, and very smooth looking. Her wide eyes- now gazing at Isabella in some undisguised mixture of shock and fear- were a clear blue that Isabella felt quite envious of in spite of herself. And her hair was gorgeous, shining, neat chestnut curls threaded with gold. Overall, Cosette Fauchelevent was a striking if not impressive figure. She quite literally glowed, and it was obvious why Marius fell in love with her so quickly, to the point of stalking her.

"You-" She seemed at a loss for words for a moment, which Isabella thought quite convenient. If she could not speak then she could not scream, and if she could not scream then Valjean could not run out and find them. "You fell from the gate."

"So I did." The reader must forgive Isabella for her lack of verbosity at the moment, for she was still rather dazed from her fall.

"Were you climbing the gate?" Cosette prompted, no longer seeming scared as much as curious.

"Yes, actually, and I can explain, but right now-" Isabella leapt to her feet and immediately spotted the bomb- she didn't even want to think about how Avielle knew _exactly_ what type to plothole in and _how_ to rig it and how many _hours_ of _research_ might have gone into that- and grabbing it, flung it over to the other side of the gate.

Avielle's cry of alarm was very audible, more so than any of the previous conversation as she presumable extinguished the bomb before it could kill her. Isabella sighed in relief before turning back to Cosette.

"What was that?" Cosette asked, curiously trying to peer over the gate.

"Umm, no one," Isabella replied sheepishly, wanting to pull Cosette down but afraid to actually touch her.

"The correct answer would have been, 'nothing'," Cosette reasoned, jumping up and down to see over, to no avail. "There _is_ someone else back there, then. I _thought_ I heard two people." Isabella paled as Cosette turned back to face her. "Now, who are you?"

"My name is Isabella," said the fangirl softly. "That is- was," she corrected herself, hearing the sound of Avielle's pounding footsteps racing away, "my friend Avielle. She, umm..." Here Isabella hesitated, thinking that telling Cosette outright that she had just been the target of an assassination attempt would be a bit too harsh. She settled herself back onto a stone bench. "She lost something over the fence and I climbed over to get it back. I'm sorry for intruding."

Cosette studied her intently for a moment. "Still... that doesn't explain who exactly you are." She curtsied politely, offering Isabella a small smile. "My name is Cosette Fauchelevent. This is my garden."

Isabella returned the smile, grateful that Cosette seemed to be taking this so well. She was suddenly quite glad that she hadn't allowed Avielle to kill her. "I'm Isabella Ricci. Pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Fauchelevent." Who was her mother kidding? Isabella _knew_ manners.

Cosette tilted her head, and Isabella had the uncomfortable feeling that she was trying to read her. "Umm," she stammered, trying to avoid an awkward silence. "How old are you? I'm sixteen."

Cosette grinned, happy to have the other girl make an attempt at conversation. "Oh, I'm sixteen as well. I will be turning seventeen in June."

"That's nice," Isabella smiled, still feeling a bit awkward. "I have my birthday in June also, near the end of the month."

"Well..." Cosette seemed as if she wanted to say something, but was too nervous. Finally, she said, "now that you're here, you may as well stay a while- you will stay, won't you Mademoiselle Ricci?" She asked hopefully. "I don't meet with women my own age much- I would be delighted to invite you inside, and your friend too, if she is still behind the gate. I- I could get you some refreshments, I'm sure Toussaint would have something-" She turned towards the house as if expecting to see the maid standing in the doorway before she turned back and her gaze fell on Isabella's arm. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "You're bleeding!"

Isabella was naturally alarmed at this, and immediately turned to her injury. A small stream of blood ran down her bare arm, leading from a gash near her elbow where she must have cut it climbing (or falling) over the gate. "Oh dear, I am." She was relatively unconcerned, for it was hardly bleeding and she couldn't even feel it. Cosette, however, was alarmed.

"I could fetch you a bandage of some sort," she said worriedly, turning towards her house and then turning back towards Isabella without having taken a step. "Or perhaps you need some sort of cloth, to stop the bleeding." She fluttered around the garden like some sort of fairy or butterfly, seeming unsure whether to stay or leave the strange girl alone in her garden.

"Oh, no," Isabella insisted, covering the cut with her hand to try and stop the bleeding. "It's alright, I'm fine I-

But Cosette had stopped moving around. She suddenly looked as if she had seen a ghost- her face was pale and her eyes wide in her thin face. Without saying a word, she pointed one pale finger towards Isabella's cut.

"What?" Isabella looked back again, removing her hand only to see that the cut was gone, leaving only a small amount of blood. "Oh, wow. I must have healed it somehow, without even realizing."

"B- but how?" Cosette stuttered, much more taken aback by this than Isabella.

"I'm not sure," Isabella shrugged absently, quite pleased with no longer having to worry about getting a band-aid. "I've only had these powers for a few days, I'm not sure how to use them."

It wasn't until the words had left her mouth that she realized how monumentally stupid a thing it was to say, but it was too late.

"Powers?" Suddenly Cosette was paying rapt attention, a fascinated gleam in her eyes. "What powers? You have powers?"

"Uhh... no..." Isabella knew her denial was lame and unconvincing, but she wasn't sure what else to say.

"Yes you do!" Cosette exclaimed with an excited grin. Isabella winced, not only because she had been found out but because, _god_, her smile was _blinding._

"I don't!"

Cosette raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Then how is it that you were bleeding one minute and the next you are completely fine? You just stated, outright- you have powers. I _heard_ you."

"Well..." Isabella frowned. How to get out of this one... "But _surely_ there is some sort of logical explanation instead of magic."

Cosette blushed- she even looked good doing that, Isabella thought ruefully. "I- I suppose I figured..." She trailed off, seeming embarrassed.

"That's alright," Isabella shrugged, not wanting to make her feel bad. "You don't get out much, I understand."

Cosette frowned. "How would you know anything like that?"

"Umm... magic."

What? Cosette knew about the powers already, Isabella reasoned. It wasn't as if she wouldn't believe her.

"What sort of powers do you have?" Cosette asked eagerly, sitting next to her. Her eyes were bright and her face was flushed with delight. Isabella realized how big of a deal this was for her- like in Tangled, she mused absently, Rapunzel's 'there's a person in my closet' moment. This was Cosette's 'there's a witch in my garden' moment. Huh.

"Well, I can heal others and apparently myself, among some things. My friends have other powers, though."

Cosette's eyes lit up. "Oh, this is... this is fascinating! What else can you do?" She seemed really excited about this, Isabella realized. She really_ didn't_ get out much. "Can you see the future? Fly?" Cosette gasped suddenly, hands covering her mouth. "Can you _mesmerize_ people?"

Isabella frowned in confusion. "What's a mesmerize?" Realizing that this could only lead to more questions, she quickly cut Cosette off before she could say anything else. "And no, I can't see the future- well, actually, I am from the future, so I suppose it could be the same thing." At this, Cosette looked as if using all of her willpower not to interrupt was causing her actual physical pain. "And, I can't fly, no one can fly- that we know of. And if mesmerizing is the same as hypnosis, then yeah, my friend can do that."

Only when Isabella finally stopped talking and Cosette let out a huge, strangled gasp did Isabella realize that the girl had been holding her breath the entire time she was speaking. "You have to show me!" She exclaimed excitedly. Isabella drew back. She was _not_ prepared for this today.

"Show you... _what_?"

"Your powers! Oh, please? I'm sure my papa wouldn't mind if I went out for an hour or so- he'd likely want to come with us, but that's alright, isn't it? I simply must find out more about these powers! Why, I read so much about people with strange powers, but I never thought that they'd actually _exist_! Oh, please!"

Isabella was starting to see what Cosette's problem was.

The kid didn't have any friends. She was desperate for any type of intimate human interaction besides her father. Aside from that, she took most of her knowledge about the world from the books she read- and Isabella had the distinct feeling that she didn't get her hands on many great books. Cosette had very little concept of the fact that this strange girl in her garden could be out to harm her, because she was a bit naive and far too trusting for her own good- a trait which Isabella supposed that she had inherited from her mother. No wonder Cosette was seen as stupid by a lot of the fandom. Cosette wasn't stupid, Isabella realized- she was just very, very lonely and way too trusting. Isabella was roughly Cosette's age and seemed nice enough, plus she was sitting and talking with her, something Isabella doubted Cosette had experienced much of from other girls since the convent- in Cosette's mind, that equaled _friend_. And she had just discovered that her new friend had magic powers, which she had probably read about in stories and now she had just discovered that they were _real_-

Still, Ally wouldn't be happy if Isabella just brought Cosette back there. Nor would Avielle... or Maddy... or Marleni, or Bridget, or Noelle, or Azelma- for god sakes, certainly not _Eponine_. And not to mention _VALJEAN_- he would go ballistic if Cosette just vanished out of her own garden.

But those big blue doe eyes Cosette had fixed on her...

"Oh, please! Mademoiselle Isabella, I know I've just met you but this is all just so fascinating, and I really want to find out more, so please, just show me some more of your powers!" Cosette had grasped Isabella's hand in hers and was practically begging- this girl really needed friends.

"I- I don't know-"

"_Please_."

Isabella, if you haven't noticed yet, was a push over for her friends- and even people she had just met, although she suspected that she and Cosette could indeed become very good friends. "Oh, alright, fine," She conceded, pulling her hand away and burying her face in her palms. "I'm going to regret this..." She muttered. After a moment, she pulled herself to her feet and, biting her lip until she was sure she could taste blood, summoned a plothole in front of the bench. "After you, mademoiselle Fauchelevent." She gestured to the plothole, which the awestruck Cosette was eying in disbelief.

"Oh," she turned away suddenly, concern taking over her features. "I really ought to tell papa where I'm going-"

"No, that's alright." Isabella cut in hurriedly. "I'm sure you won't be gone too long. He likely won't even miss you."

"Well," she frowned, suddenly serious. "I've never really gone off without him before. And I just met you, so perhaps this isn't the best idea..." She frowned, biting her own lip. "But I do want to see those powers, though..."

Jumping at the opportunity of escape, Isabella suggested a solution. "Why don't I come back later, when you've had time to think on it some more?"

"Oh, no!" Cosette exclaimed, turning back with a sort of... was that fear in her eyes? She doesn't want me to leave her, Isabella realized. She's afraid that I might not come back, that this wonderful new fantasy-like thing that she's found all on her own might vanish forever. "Please, don't go!" She seemed to make up her mind that very instant. "I'll go with you- I will. You're right, Isabella- papa won't miss me for long. I'm sure I'll be right back." She eyed the plothole with a sort of apprehension. "I just... step in?"

Isabella, her hopes of an out deflated, simply sighed. "I guess so."

Cosette turned towards her, noticing the flat tone of her voice. "Oh dear," she breathed, realization seeming to hit her suddenly. "I'm being a bit rude, aren't I? I've just realized that perhaps I could be causing problems for you, by going along with you like this. I'm terribly sorry, Isabella." She looked genuinely upset. "Would- Would you like me to stay behind?"

Isabella smiled at the other girl. "No... I suppose that Ally won't be too much of a problem. You'll meet her later." She shook her head. " Now, are you going in first or shall I?"

Cosette smiled brightly and stepped through the plothole.

-XXXXXXXXXXXX-

Azelma never should have gone out. Eponine was staying at base to talk with Ally and Elsa, and Azelma was bored. She just wanted to go outside for a moment, to look at the streets- she wasn't used to being indoors for so long.

But she wasn't careful. She wasn't careful and when she tried to run, she wasn't fast enough. Now she found herself standing in the middle of one of Patron-Minette's lairs, her arms pinned to her sides by the big, brutish man whose name she couldn't remember. Her father stood in front of her, looking more imposing than she could ever remember him.

"I don't 'ave powers, I swear!" She cried in a small voice after he slapped her once. "It's jus' Eponine, not me!"

For Azelma could stand up to gendarmes and brutes on the street, but never to her own father.

"Then where is she? Where is your sister, you slut?" He hissed.

Azelma didn't want to say, and for a moment she kept completely silent. But the giant man gripped her arm so tightly that Azelma was sure it was going to break, and off to the side she could see a thin, tall shadow holding some sharp metal object that she couldn't identify, and she felt her blood run cold as her father nodded to the side and the shadow started to move.

"Last chance."

"No, please!" She cried, and the shadow froze. "I'll tell ya. I'll tell ya everythin'."

_**AN: Longest chapter ever! You are welcome. Also, I'm writing Cosette for the first time. I have my own headcanon appearance of her as described in here, but a cookie for whoever guesses who's performance I'm basing my Cosette's personality off of. Hint: It's not Amanda Seyfried's. I thought she did a fine job as Cosette and all, but she isn't my headcanon Cosette. I'm trying specifically not to portray her as shallow or insipid, because that's something I see over and over and it's NOT TRUE.**_

_**Actually, I read something really interesting on the Abaisse forum suggesting that Cosette might be hiding behind numerous subconscious defense mechanisms; they order her not to question anything too deeply, because as long as you are happy and safe and with good people everything is fine and you don't need to know anything else because they are good and you are safe and you are happy and don'taskdon'taskdon'task.**_

_**Scary, huh?**_

_**Also I used an actual 1830 Parisian map with Omnibus routes marked up, so everything you see here about the omnibus and location of rue Plumet- all true. That said, I didn't know how much an actual omnibus costed, so I just made that up.**_

_**And what is this? What is Azelma doing? Find out next chapter- I'm off to read the entire Parisian sewer digression... for later in the story.**_

_**Love and hugs from your **_**so**_** not evil Authoress- Lydia**_


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